


Eighteen Is Sweeter

by per_ardua



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Resident Evil - Freeform, slight AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-04-15 05:17:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 30,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4594248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/per_ardua/pseuds/per_ardua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newly turned adult Moira Burton is desperate to leave the nest. Rebellious, reckless, and outspoken, she's hopelessly enamored of legendary Raccoon City survivor/biker babe Claire Redfield. In an interesting and unforeseen turn of events, Moira ends up moving out to room with the woman of her dreams. Will she be successful in winning the heart of the older woman? Follow the ups and downs as the two struggle to cohabit. Slight AU, events taking place two years before the plot of Revelations 2. Rated M for future sexual content.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Excited chatter echoed through the halls of the Burton household – a sure sign that company had arrived. Leave it to Barry to organize a big gathering, Moira thought with annoyance. It was her eighteenth birthday, and she would have preferred to celebrate it with close friends. Her father, however, had insisted that it was a family affair and had her under house arrest for the whole day.  
House arrest in the worst kind of way, meaning that Moira would have to put on a happy, polite front for the guests who had traveled in her honor. If there was one thing she hated more than having to be around her own family, it was tolerating the fake and superficial bullshit of old friends and distant relatives. She needed out of this hellhole, no doubt about that.  
“Happy fucking birthday to me,” she muttered to herself as she tugged on a boyish dress. Deciding the ensemble was too fancy for her liking, she slid on a pair of cut up tights and tossed a pale grey sweater over her shoulders. Perfect.  
Grunge as fuck, as she liked to refer to it when she was with her friends. They weren’t even allowed near the house today. Just another thing to put a damper on her special day.  
“No way,” Barry had scolded with a shake of his head. “I don’t want those girls anywhere near here, you understand?”

“Barry,” she’d protested, but he’d cut her off with an angry raise of his booming voice.  
“Our house, our rules, Moira Jane Burton. And I don’t want to deal with a fucking horde of teenaged idiots wreaking havoc.”  
That left her alone at her own party. She and Polly didn’t talk, her mom was batshit, and Barry … well, there was more than enough to be said for Barry. Hell, she’d been so pissed at him that she hadn’t even bothered to inquire who the damned guests were. She had a rough idea, though – the old STARS survivors were regular suspects. But things were shaky with all of that, too, or so she’d heard. It had barely been two months since Jill was found to be alive, and she and Chris had returned from Africa looking worse for wear.  
The whole thing had shaken up her father pretty badly. Even if he had decided to extend the offer, Moira found it doubtful that the two would actually show. It was just her birthday, for shit’s sake, and Moira barely had gotten to know Jill throughout the years. They’d talked on a few occasions here and there, but nothing more. She hadn’t cared to, really – Jill was as boring and professional as they came. Typical army brat, militaristic even in her everyday life. Moira hated those kinds of people.  
The one person who held the potential to make this whole mess tolerable was Claire, Chris’ younger sister, and Moira’s friend (or so she’d like to think). That’s what she’d told her, anyway, a few years back. They’d had some good bonding sessions, often running off to be alone amidst all the commotion.  
Moira really, really liked her. Admired the hell out of her, because Claire was living proof that adults didn’t have to conform to a boring, old lifestyle once they hit a certain age. Claire was nearing thirty, yet she still enjoyed hitting the clubs when she had the time. Not to mention, she could rock a pair of jeans or booty shorts like it was nobody’s business, and drove her bike everywhere. Fucking badass.  
Yeah, okay … so like was an understatement. Moira was crushing hard. Had been since she was twelve, really, but the feelings had just continued to intensify. Now that she was eighteen, she thought maybe I have a chance. She had heard from Claire herself that the woman had messed around with girls before, but still, Moira wasn’t holding her breath. She’d be plenty content with just having her around as a best friend.  
Maybe that was still aiming high. Well, no matter. A girl could dream, couldn’t she? They had, after all, hung out a couple of times in the past two years. Moira had even crashed at her place once or twice after a long night of partying. Claire got her. Claire understood her like nobody else.  
And god, did she love—  
“MOIRA!”  
Her thoughts were abruptly cut off as she heard her mother screech her name from the bottom of the stairwell. Time to make the rounds.  
Moira quickly jogged down the stairs, making her way into the foyer where eager eyes examined her from head to toe. A cursory glance revealed a few familiar faces – Chris and Jill, Rebecca, some of her mother’s friends. No Claire in sight. She greeted each with a forced smile and awkward hug, offering hurried thanks to every “Happy birthday!” that was flung in her direction.  
Once that was taken care of, she slid into the kitchen. Polly was propped against the counter, popping grape after grape in her mouth. A smirk crawled across her face as she noticed her sister’s dismayed expression. “Looking for Claire?”  
Moira’s cheeks burned red with embarrassment and anger, and she moved forward as if to shove the younger girl back. “No. Shut the fuck up.” She shoved her hand into the bowl of Tostitos, grabbing a hefty amount with one hand before assuming a spot near her sister.  
“Ooookay, Moira. Whatever you say.” Polly just had to get the last word in. Normally, Moira would fight back. But it was her birthday, and she was annoyed enough as it was. No point in pushing back – it would give Polly the victory, anyway.  
The door knocked, and Moira’s ears perked up like a puppy anticipating the arrival of its owner. A big grin crept across her face, because she knew just exactly who it was.  
Fashionably late. Of course. She should have figured as much.  
Bounding forward, she pushed past the crowd of guests and beat her father to the door, swinging it open eagerly. Trying to downplay her excitement, she instead only gave a cool smirk at the face that greeted her.  
“Hey, Moira! Happy birthday, you killer!” Claire immediately pulled her into a hug, and Moira didn’t protest. She let the older woman hold her for a few good moments before pulling back, eyes dancing with happiness. Fucking Claire.  
“It’s about time your ass showed up,” Moira teased, nearly blushing at her own vulgarity. If there was one person she felt self-conscious around at all times, it was Claire. Ass was pretty tame, but then again, it could be misconstrued as a reference to the older woman’s infamous rear. It looked pretty damn good today, complimented by low-waisted jeans that hugged her feminine hips. She’d paired it with a black cami and jean jacket, both of which exposed a thin, tanned strip of her toned midsection.  
Christ, Moira thought, feeling her heart race nervously.  
“Hey, you know how I do. Anyway, got you a present.” Claire handed her a good-sized box, wrapped in metallic red paper and topped with a golden bow. “Don’t open it until you’re alone, though.”  
The implication had Moira blushing harder, and she gave a nervous laugh before setting the present aside. “Why, what the fuck did you shove in there?”  
Claire gave a teasing wink, nudging her with one elbow. “The goods. You know, adult essentials.”  
“As in?” Moira grinned, leaning in slightly. Claire laughed, shoving her back.  
“You’re too much, Moira Burton. Don’t give me that shit. You know exactly what it is … after all, it’s half of what you used me for these past few years.”

Alcohol. Her face burned with embarrassment upon deciphering the mystery. “Hey, not true! That was just a fucking factor. I have no other friends of age. But fuck, I’d keep you around even if you didn’t hook me up like that.”  
Claire’s grin softened, blue eyes sparkling. “Good. That’s what I like to hear.”  
Moira found herself being bounced from person to person, mostly at her father’s request. She gave Claire a final look of exasperation before dragging herself toward the rest of the crowd.  
“She’s a great girl, Barry. Quite the character.” Claire moved up beside the bearded man, smile still very much bright on her freckled face.  
“Glad to hear you think so, Claire,” he responded, hands buried deep in both pockets. “Gives me Hell every day, but I suppose it’s the age.”  
“She just needs a girl to relate to. That’s why I’m around. She knows that, right?”  
Barry looked up to fully match her gaze. “Knows what?”  
Claire laughed, throwing her head back. “Knows that I’m always here for her whenever she needs me. Barry, I told her I was more than happy to be her friend a few years back … but I think she thought it was an act of pity. It wasn’t! I really enjoy her. Honestly. Now that she’s older, too, it’ll be easier to start hanging out some more.”  
“You’re a godsend, Claire, you realize that?” He gave a chuckle. “She’d be ecstatic to hear it.”  
Claire grinned, resting one hand on her hip. “No, not a godsend. Just a woman trying to do right by the world.”  
Moira, in the meantime, was finishing up what was revealing itself to be a tense and forced exchange between Jill and Chris. Hell, she felt fucking guilty even talking about herself when the two of them had so much on their plate as it was.  
“—Yeah. No big plans, just kinda spending it with the fam.” She shifted nervously, arms tightly folded across her chest.  
“That’s nice,” Jill responded, grey eyes tired and listless. “Sometimes those are the best occasions.”  
Moira would have argued, but she held her tongue. Jill had suffered much pain and personal loss. Of course she’d have a propensity to appreciate family events more. Moira, on the other hand, found them to be unbearably suffocating.  
Hey, think on the bright side. You’ve got fucking booze. From Claire Redfield. Just make it through the day, and maybe you’ll be able to sneak out later tonight.  
“Yeah, definitely,” was all she offered, grinning politely. She brushed some stray hair out of her eyes with one hand, fidgeting ever so slightly on her toes. All she longed to do was to go back and find Claire, but that was out of the question. She was here to be social, and she knew that Barry would be pissed if she didn’t live up to the expectation.  
Moira’s prayers must have been answered, for Claire slipped over to their group and stood next to her, flashing a mischievous grin in her direction before acknowledging Chris and Jill.  
“Hey, guys. Mind if I join the conversation?” Claire lightly rapped her fingernails against the edge of her wine glass, scanning for reactions.  
“Of course not,” Jill answered, offering a small grin. Chris grunted in approval, giving a nod of his head. Moira just grinned sheepishly, catching Claire’s gaze for a moment before quickly looking away.  
She should have figured Claire wasn’t going to let that one fly under the radar. A gentle punch landed on her arm, and Moira’s eyes once again lifted to meet Claire’s.  
“Why so quiet, Moira Burton?” she teased, causing the younger girl to flush pink. She wanted to say “it’s not you – it’s that I’m incapable of being silly old, crude me around these two curmudgeons.” Wanted to, that was. Unfortunately, she lacked the gall to even attempt to insinuate such a statement through facial expression alone.  
Instead, Moira just shrugged, hoping Chris and Jill would eventually make their grand departures so that she could once again have some time alone with Claire. The four of them exchanged laconic pleasantries for a few more minutes, before Jill decided that the whole ordeal was too strained and politely excused herself to fetch some food. Chris followed her without a word.  
“Master of unlocking sure isn’t the master of plausible excuses,” Moira found herself mumbling aloud. Claire snorted, and the reaction made Moira’s face flush because she realized she’d been vocalizing everything.  
“Honestly,” the older woman agreed, shaking her head. “Poor thing doesn’t eat. Hasn’t been able to stomach much since she got back from Kijuju. She’s usually straightforward, but she really hasn’t been herself lately.”  
“Well, I’d fucking imagine,” Moira responded, giving an eye roll as if to further enhance the ‘duh’ effect she was attempting to convey. “Shit’s fucked.” She fell silent, knowing that deep down that this shit hit way too close to home. Trauma wasn’t fun.  
“Mmm,” Claire agreed, also indulging in the silence for a minute or so. Moira would shift her eyes every now and again to steal a glance at her profile – there was something about her broad chin and prominent nose that just made her so damn attractive. A pretty face, but a fierce one that screamed ‘I could kick your fucking ass if the occasion called for it.’ She loved it.  
Moira wanted to keep the conversation going as long as she possibly could before some other divine intervention occurred, so she switched the topic at hand for a somewhat more flippant one. “Man, I need out of this house.” Typical teenage talk, but it was true – she didn’t know how much longer she could tolerate Barry before having one all-consuming, cataclysmic blowout. And she didn’t want to stick around long enough to see it happen, that was for sure.  
Claire snapped back to attention, turning to face her. “I can imagine. You don’t get along so well with your family, do you?” Her lips curved into a sympathetic frown.  
“Nope, not in the slightest. Fucking morons, all of them. Fuck, I’d get my own place but that’s rent money that I don’t have … and credit and shit that I’d need to build. I mean, fuck, I don’t even have anyone who’d be willing to be my roommate.” Sighing, she brought both hands to her temples and closed her eyes.  
“You know, I’m looking for a roommate.”  
The statement caught Moira by surprise, and she looked up at Claire with a look of confusion. “What?”  
Claire laughed, reaching out to lightly touch her arm. “You heard me. I said, I’m looking for a roommate.”  
Moira snorted, heart skipping a beat at the touch. “Yeah, but the last thing you’d want is for an eighteen-year-old rabble-rouser to be your living companion.”  
Now it was Claire’s turn to roll her eyes, and she leaned back in her chair. “God, Moira. You crack me up, you know that?” The smile only continued to widen on her glowing face. “Honestly?”  
“Honestly, what?” Moira challenged, repressing a smirk.  
“Honestly, I’d love to have you stay with me. I really like you, Moira. I think you’re a lot of fun, and I think you need someone who understands you.” Claire paused, gesturing to herself with two thumbs. “That someone is me.”  
Moira laughed, masking the sheer effervescence that threatened to spillover and completely ruin her cool demeanor. “You’d do that for me? Claire, fuck.”  
“That’s what friends are for, right?”  
The notion of being acknowledged as an equal made Moira’s heart quiver and throat tense involuntarily. The last thing she wanted to do is overreact, but she felt it. It was just so damn overwhelming. Not only was this a scenario straight out of her wildest dreams, but for the first time in a long time she was finally being treated with respect.  
“Moira? You still with me?”  
Glassy hazel eyes shyly looked up and she saw Claire – concerned, still half smiling but eyebrows knotted in worry. The whole sight is almost too much, and she gave a weak nod.  
Claire could see right through her.  
Within seconds, the older woman swept her into a caring embrace, gently kneading her back with one hand. Moira pressed her chin into Claire’s shoulder, relishing the opportunity to be held by such a fucking beauty. A beauty with a heart. Everything she could have asked for, and more.  
“Don’t think for a second that I was joking, though. I’ll talk to your father tonight, okay? And we can get the ball rolling.” Claire’s eyes danced with excitement, causing Moira to smile right back at her.  
“Thanks, Claire. Really. I’m fucking stoked.”  
“I know you are, hon.” Claire’s fingers were still gently circling the contours of her back, leaving a trail of consolation as they went. “You’re a good girl, Moira. I’m excited to call you my roommate.”  
“I am, too.”


	2. High Hopes and Harleys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire stops by to help Moira break the big news to her parents.

“—Moving out? Our Moira?”  
It was hard to miss the shrill echo of her mother’s voice. Even though Moira was upstairs curled up with a book and some headphones, she could still make out the faintest trace of her mother’s voice. Annoyed but intrigued, she turned off her music and chucked the book on the dresser. She slid off the bed and crawled to the door, pressing her ear against the wall so she could better hear the conversation transpiring downstairs.  
“Yes, Kathy. Claire here has very generously offered to take her in and help her fall into the swing of things.” There was a definitive sense of worry in his voice, but he masked it well with as cheerful as a tone as he could muster. Moira was honestly impressed at how Claire had managed to convince him so easily – usually, Barry was the last one to agree to anything. He was as stubborn as she was, and had a temper to boot.  
“Eighteen’s a tough age,” Claire began, smiling sympathetically. “She’s at the crossroads between dependence and independence. Of course she’s not ready to go off on her own yet. That’s why I’m here.”   
“Yeah, well thank God you are,” Barry chimed in, voice booming. “Moira won’t even bother listening to either one of us anymore. Yells at me, eggs Kathy on, creates conflict when there’s no reason for it.”  
“I understand where she’s coming from. I was a lot like her at that age. Hey, is she here by the way? Wanted to stop and say hi before I ran off.”  
Moira’s eyes widened, and she scrambled to her feet, rising from her crouched position. Eyes bounced across the room nervously for a few seconds. Her best bet was to return to the bed, put on the headphones, and pretend she’d been reading the whole time as if nothing happened. Not the most genius idea, but it would suffice.  
About a minute after she once again settled against the plush pink armchair topper on her mattress, she heard a soft rapping at her door.   
“Come in!”  
Moments later, Claire’s figure appeared in the doorway – and Moira couldn’t help but crack a smile. The older woman was dressed in tight-fitting slacks, a pale button-down, and a blazer. She looked good, but God, did she need some fashion help.  
“Hey, Moira! I’m glad you’re here.” The grin that lit up her face was a genuine one. Claire stepped closer to the edge of the bed, sliding both hands into the pockets of her pants. “How are you?”  
Moira perked up, lifting her body so that she was fully upright. “I’m pretty fucking decent, yourself?” Eyes once again scanned over the other’s attire, and she shook her head with a laugh. “God, send help. You need a fucking stylist.”  
Claire’s eyes widened in mock offense, but then she gave a laugh. “Hey, not my call – TerraSave wants us to dress the part. At least the pants look nice.” A smirk danced across her face, and Moira’s mouth widened at the subtle reference to her ass.  
Claire Redfield might downplay her achievements, but she had undeniable pride when it came to her body.  
“You little smug shit,” Moira started, surprise turning into filthy pleasure as the words flew out of her mouth. “Fuck, you kill me. Anyway … what’s up?”  
Claire laughed, before shrugging her shoulders. “Not too much. Finally convinced your parents to go through with everything. It was tricky, but I had no doubt in my mind that they’d give in eventually.” She glanced at the bed, before looking back to Moira. “Mind if I sit here for a minute?”  
“Not at all. Make yourself at home. I mean, don’t, actually, because I intend to do that at your place. You’d hate it here, it’s a fucking nightmare.” Moira patted the spot beside her, swinging both legs mindlessly over the edge of the bedframe.   
Claire accepted the invitation, settling comfortably next the girl. “Thanks.” She laughed at the commentary, reaching one hand out to squeeze her shoulder. “Relax, Moira. Just think: two more days and you’re out of here. In fact, the main reason I came by was to ask if you had anything packed away already that you wanted me to take back.”  
Two days? That soon? Moira could barely mask her delight. She’d been packing haphazardly in the past week, shoving things into boxes here and there when she found herself bored and with time to kill. “Oh, sick! Yeah, I have a couple of boxes, I guess. Shit, are you sure? I can always lug them later.”

The older woman gave a wave of her hand, rising to both feet. “Positive. Where are they? I’ll take them now.”  
Moira followed suit, lazily dragging herself to the closet and producing two poorly taped cardboard boxes of medium size. “Here. It’s mostly clothes and shit.” Her face grew concerned when she noticed Claire’s attention had drifted to her open closet. Fuck. Pipes, lighters, booze, and plenty of other things Moira had hoped to keep private were now in plain sight. Not her smartest move.  
“Oh my, what do we have here?” Claire’s back was to her now, so Moira had nothing to gauge her reaction on save for the tone of her voice … which really told her nothing.  
“So, I like to have fun. You know this, Claire. Hasn’t my father told you shit about me? I mean, fuck, you bought me fucking booze for my birthday!” Moira sighed, running over to join her. Claire swiveled around, grin still locked in place. Phew.  
“Of course he’s warned me. Nothing wrong with a little fun … if you’re responsible.” All joviality fell from her expression, and for a second Moira thought she was about to be lambasted for her life decisions. When Claire got serious, it was no fucking joke.   
“I know what I’m doing. I’m responsible.” Moira reassured her, moving to blanket her stash. She could feel Claire’s eyes burning holes in the back of her neck, and it made her stomach turn with unease.  
“Okay, okay. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt for now. But don’t think I won’t be watching.” Claire winked, also rising to her feet and lifting one of the boxes off the ground. “Christ, Moira. Are you sure these are just clothes? Seems pretty heavy to me …”  
Moira rolled her eyes, letting out a laugh as she did so. “Yeah, just clothes – believe it or not. I like variety, so I tend to buy lots of shit.” She lifted the second box, heading toward the stairwell. “Come on, slow ass!”  
Claire trailed behind her, and the two of them lugged Moira’s belongings outside where Claire’s SUV was parked. Moira turned to Claire with a bemused grin.  
“Man, you really did plan ahead if you brought this piece of shit.”  
“Hey, bikes are great but they can’t hold cargo!” Claire popped open the hatch of the trunk and proceeded to bend over, taking both boxes into her arms at once. Moira found herself mesmerized by her movements – somehow, even in terrible attire, Claire was effortlessly sexy. She gave a great view of her rear, and Moira, unable to tear her eyes away, blushed profusely.  
“I don’t know how you manage to be both the raddest chick I know and the biggest fucking mom ever … at the same time. I really don’t.” Moira stepped up behind her, resisting the temptation to slap one hand firmly on the older woman’s ass. Instead, she let her hand ghost above it, fingers accidentally brushing against the back of one thigh.  
She froze, breathing caught in the back of her throat. Time seemed to slow – for but a second. Claire didn’t notice, or at least played it off that way. Nothing happened, and she continued to do away with the luggage until it was neatly stowed in the back of the trunk.  
“Fucking idiot,” Moira mentally chastised.   
“Okay, looks like we’re all set.” Claire spoke, stepping back and wiping the sweat off her forehead with the back of one hand. “Think you’ll be able to finish everything up for Wednesday?”  
Moira glanced back at her house, and gave a shrug. “Hopefully. I mean, I can always put my friends to work so everything’s done. I don’t really give a fuck about how it’s organized.”   
Claire grinned, leaning against the side of her car. “Good. Hey, you doing anything today?”  
“Huh? Me? Nah.” Moira internally cringed at her response. Me? Yeah, who else, you moron?  
“Wanna come over and scope out the place? I don’t think you’ve seen it in a while. It will be your new home, after all. Might want to familiarize yourself with it before you dive right in.”   
“Fine, deal. But only if you take that piece of shit away and come back for me with your Harley.” She gave one final look of feigned disgust at the bulky vehicle, earning herself a shove from the older woman.  
“Oh, fine. But only because it’s a gorgeous day to ride.” Claire flung open the driver’s door and rolled down the window, tilting her head out to look at Moira.  
“It’s ALWAYS a gorgeous day to ride in your fucking book, Claire. Let’s be real.” Back and forth in jest – that was the usual rhythm the two of them fell into. And god, the further they got into it the more tantalizing it was to Moira. Claire’s coy rebuttals almost seemed like subtle attempts at flirting … almost. Moira figured she was just looking at things too deeply though, as per usual, and dismissed the thought as just another lovesick fantasy of hers.  
Claire’s response this time was just an eyebrow raise and an exasperated sigh. “Be back in ten.” A pause, and then she added, “With the Harley.”  
Moira smirked, cocky in her triumph. “I want the whole getup. Riding outfit, leather jacket—“  
Claire threw up her hands, giving another exaggerated groan. “Oh, God, Moira. We’re not pulling those outfits out of the attic. Nuh-uh – no way.” She climbed into the driver’s seat, plunging keys into the ignition and giving a rough twist. The old vehicle roared to life, and Moira took a step backward.  
“Ok, fine. But I want the hand-me-downs when you finally get around to going through them.”  
“Yeah, okay!” Claire roared, giving a wave of her hand out the window before driving off into the distance. Moira watched, unable to tear the grin off her face. There was an indescribable lightness filling her body that she hadn’t felt in years. It was as if the storm above her had finally ceased, clouds parting to reveal the beautiful face of the shining sun.  
Waiting until she was absolutely positive that the older woman was out of hearing range, Moira jumped up and let out a delighted squeal, reveling in her own happiness for a good five minutes before she felt content enough to rest again.


	3. Out With the Old, In With the New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At last, the day has arrived! Moira bids her old life farewell and readies herself for an exciting new future.

Today’s the day. 

A monumental happening – a pivotal moment in her life, without a doubt. Arguably as important as her eighteenth birthday.  
Today, in less than three hours, Moira would officially be housemates with Claire Redfield. Goodbye to Barry’s suffocating authority, farewell to Kathy and her mindless bantering, and a much needed adieu to Polly’s taunting.   
Freedom was hers. And as appealing as it was, it was fucking terrifying as Hell – especially given the fact that said freedom involved the presence of her goddamned crush. The thought of spending so much time in close proximity with Claire was equally intimidating as it was exhilarating. As much as she’d like to think she knew her well, there was still so much she’d yet to learn about her favorite ginger.  
There was the desire, of course, to edge in closer and uncover every little detail of the woman’s personality, down to the individual quirks and funny habits. But at the same time there was the encroaching fear that by doing so she’d make herself an unwanted presence, and thus effectively do the opposite of her intended goal. The last thing she wanted to do was scare Claire off.  
“God,” Moira groaned aloud, rolling over so that she could easily reach her phone. Buzz. The screen illuminated, revealing the option to silence the alarm or grant herself another ten minutes of snooze time. Tired eyes quickly scanned the time. 8:30. She’d better move. Then again, Claire did have a penchant for running late …  
Tempting as the snooze button was, Moira surmounted her lethargy and kicked back the sheets, giving one final groan before lifting herself out of bed. Sunlight poured through her open window, blinding tired eyes with overwhelming brilliance.   
“Mental fucking note to invest in some blinds,” she mumbled to herself, instinctively rubbing both eyes with the back of her hand. She rose to both feet and gave one final glance at the mostly emptied shoebox that was once her room. Walls once covered in pictures and band posters lay barren save for ghosts of tape residue and chipped paint. All belongings were now stowed away, leaving only her bed, the dresser, and a barren bookshelf for decoration.  
Moira had never seen something so damn satisfying in her life. Eighteen years spent in this birdcage, and now she was set to fly free. Independence had always been her strong suit. Smiling, she slipped on the skirt and top she’d set aside and quickly applied the essentials – a dab of concealer here and there, subtle eyeliner, and the faintest tint of cherry lip gloss. Five minutes later and she was bounding down the stairs, with a spring in her step and a lifted chin. As she entered the kitchen, Barry lifted his gaze from the newspaper and frowned in disapproval.  
“What the Hell is that?” he snapped, gesturing to her attire. Surely outlandish by his standards – after all, who wore tight-fitting miniskirts and borderline crop tops casually? At least that’s how he saw it. Goddamned baby boomers.  
“It’s called an outfit,” Moira retorted, reaching into the bag of bread and producing two slices. She tossed them into the toaster and moved to grab the sugar and cinnamon trays, arranging them haphazardly on the table with a slab of melted butter on a plate.   
“Placemat, Moira. And utensils.” Barry sighed, pressing both hands to his temples. “Just for one more day? I can’t stop you when you’re on your own. But this is my household, and you’re still inhabiting it.”  
“Yeah, for literally two more hours. If that.” She responded, pulling out the chair with deliberation before sinking into it carelessly. Shrugging, she dumped ample amounts of sugar and cinnamon onto her toast and shoveled the creation into her mouth with one hand, grinning as she chewed. Polly, who also happened to be at the table, made a face.  
“Moira, gross. Sorry you can’t always get your way, but it doesn’t mean you need to act like a little kid just for the sake of rebelling.”  
Moira almost moved to flip her off, but remembered that her dad was watching. Better to play it safe, especially given the fact that she’d literally be out of there in no time. If she fucked up now, Barry could intervene … and possibly keep her from going with Claire. So instead, she just gave her signature scowl, continuing to chew loudly and defiantly despite the wishes of her family.  
“You’re lucky mom’s out. If she were here, you would’ve definitely gotten in trouble.” Polly added, rolling her eyes as she moved to fold both arms across her chest.  
“Polly,” Barry warned, voice raising ever-so-slightly with the threat of punishment.   
“Sorry, dad.”  
“That’s what I like to hear.” Barry paused, returning his attention to his eldest daughter. “Are you all packed up, Moira? God, I sound like your moth-“  
“Yep. All packed. Everything’s accounted for.” Moira interrupted, dismissing him with a wave of her hand. Disrespect, and she knew it. Probably not her best move, but it sure as Hell was a lot safer than telling her sister to fuck off.   
Barry just shook his head, rising from his seat and roughly shoving in his chair. “God help Claire,” he grumbled, making his way upstairs. Moira stopped eating, watching his departure like a hawk before shifting her focus to Polly. The younger girl challenged her gaze with a glare of annoyance.  
“Maybe we’ll be able to achieve some peace with you gone, Moira,” she sniped, nearly causing the eldest girl to launch up and sock her across the face.  
“I honestly couldn’t give a flying fuck about anybody’s peace but my own. And I sure as Hell know that I’ll finally get mine, because Claire is a sane human being who actually understands me.”  
“Oh, boohoo, I’m Moira and I hate life. Nobody gets me.” Polly mocked, pulling her long blonde tresses back to create the illusion of a pixie cut. “I doubt Claire actually ‘gets you.’ She’s probably just taking pity on you.” Moira felt her hands curl into two tiny fists.  
“You know what? Fuck you, I don’t care.” She angrily kicked in her chair and spun around, storming out of the kitchen and up the stairs. She could hear Polly snickering in the distance – the sound made her skin crawl.  
A quick glance at the clock told her it was only 9:30. Another hour to kill, with nothing to do. Everything was all packed up, anyway. 

Why the fuck was life choosing to drag out now, of all times?   
“Let’s just fast-forward to the part where Claire arrives on her bike and drives off with me into Neverland,” she mumbled.

The reality was far from glamorous. An hour and a half later (running late, of course), the familiar rumble of the SUV hummed throughout the house. Polly raised her eyebrows.  
“Moira, your girlfriend is here!”  
Moira perked up, grabbing the last of her belongings from the doorway as she came stumbling down the stairs. Awkward timing. She made it to the door just as Claire was about to knock. She felt her cheeks flush red, knowing that it was too late to flee, and sheepishly opened the door.  
“Well, somebody’s in a hurry to get out of here, huh?” Claire grinned, nudging her gently with an elbow. “Hey, you. All ready to go?”  
“Yeah, pretty much,” Moira stammered, hugging her luggage close to her chest. “I’ve just got these and a couple more bags. Then I’m set.” She heard footsteps, and shut her eyes in annoyance as Barry, Polly, and Kathy came to join them in the parlor.  
“Claire, thanks for driving out. We could have easily dropped her off,” Barry said, stepping forward to join the two.   
“Hi, Barry. It’s no problem, really! I’m happy to help out. Plus, it’s always nice to see all of you.” A bright smile played out on her face, and Moira had to keep herself from gagging at how cloyingly fake the words sounded.  
“The feeling is mutual. You better be sure to keep up the visits – with Moira in tow, of course.” Barry winked and moved to ruffle his daughter’s hair. Moira caught his wrist with her one free hand, expression cross.  
“Don’t.”  
“Fine, fine. Now, you ladies all set? Need help moving anything?” Barry examined the spare pile of bags that had yet to be attended to, furrowing thick brows together in thought.  
“No, we’re fine.” Moira butted, speaking before Claire even had the chance to open her mouth. “Thanks. Bye.” She turned and stepped out the door, taking quick paces toward the car. She didn’t expect Claire to immediately follow suit, but the woman was there within seconds.  
“Hey, lighten up. I’m telling you, you’re practically free. Be nice to your dad for five minutes? That’s all I ask.” Claire rested a hand on her hip, leaning against the side of the vehicle. “Come on now. For me?”  
Moira flushed again, embarrassed that her poor behavior had now visibly effected Claire. “Yeah, okay. Sure.” She mumbled the words hurriedly, once again quickly hurrying back into the house. She flashed a tight smile at her family before lifting the rest of the luggage into her arms. Pausing at the door, she inhaled and turned to face her father one last time.  
“Thanks for the help. I mean it.” She stood there, feeling awkward and stupid and searching for more words. Nothing came to her. Barry seemed to respect the acknowledgement enough, and nodded.  
“Of course. Now, you go and have fun. But be responsible, and for the love of God, respectful.” Kathy nodded vigorously in agreement, and Polly just gave one of her smirks.  
“Yep. I will. Anyway … I’ll see you around.” And with that, Moira turned her back on her family for the last time and walked out the door, refusing to look back. That life was behind her now. And as she lifted the rest of her bags into the trunk, she couldn’t help but smile at the thought of what was to come.  
Day one, here we come. Adult life, independence, and Claire Redfield.  
“Okay! That’s everything,” Moira called, shutting the trunk and climbing into the passenger seat. Claire gave one final examination, and proceeded to join her in the front of the vehicle.  
“Nice! Looks like we’re on our way, then.” She lifted one palm in the air, and Moira responded with a look of pure confusion bordering on derision. The brunette had no idea what the older woman was aiming for. A salute?  
“Hey, don’t leave me hanging!”  
OH. A high-five. Duh, Moira. Chuckling sheepishly, she raised her palm and slapped it against Claire’s, grinning in satisfaction.  
“Let’s fucking go. I’m ready to move in!”


	4. First Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira moves in, and attempts to infringe upon Claire's personal life.

Claire’s apartment sat a comfortable thirty minutes away from Moira’s old place – enough of a distance to ensure that regular encounters with her family would not be a common occurrence. It was a shared duplex, with a nice exterior in the outskirts of town. The upper level belonged to Claire, and the lower level to an older couple who seemingly were always away on vacation.  
“Welcome home,” Claire said as she pulled into the driveway. The car fell silent and the two hopped out, heading over to the trunk to retrieve Moira’s belongings. “Excited?”  
“You have no fucking idea,” Moira replied, grinning as she took three bags into her arms. She’d already seen the place when she went to visit and had enjoyed the layout. Big living room, decent sized kitchen, a master bedroom, and the tiny guest room that was to become her own. Small, but sizeable for two single women with minimal needs.   
Claire just offered a smile, grabbing the rest of Moira’s luggage. “Left it unlocked. You can just head on up and make yourself comfortable.”  
At these words, the brunette bounded up the stairs and pushed open the door. On the table was a tiny cake (store-made for sure – the frosting was too immaculate) with a single candle alongside a card that read “Welcome, Moira!” in messy cursive. The goofiest of grins crossed the younger woman’s face.  
“Oh my fucking God. That nerd.” She hustled over to the open guest room and dropped her bags on the mattress, wiping her hands together before stepping back out into the parlor. Claire joined her a minute later, enthusiasm equally matched in an expression of pride.   
“You’re such a fucking dork. But wow, thank you,” Moira said, trying not to trip over her words. Did that sound too rude? She knows I’m crass, right? Secondhand doubts quickly flooded her mind, and in a last ditch attempt to rid of them, she threw her arms around the older woman in an awkward embrace.  
Claire stumbled back a bit, not entirely expecting the affectionate gesture – but welcomed it with open arms. Gently, she threw her arms around the younger girl and gave another grin. “You’re welcome, Moira. I don’t know, I thought I should do something along the lines of a housewarming thing for you. After all, it’s your first big move! That’s a huge deal.” She pulled away, hands still grasping the other’s shoulders.  
“Yeah, I guess it is. Well, thanks. Seriously. You can be sure the cake will be put away.” Moira lowered her hands to pat her stomach, smirking mischievously before making her way over to the fridge. “Speaking of food … what’ve you got in here?” She yanked open one door, squinting as she inspected the selection before her.  
“Mostly healthy things, I’m afraid. My metabolism’s slowing, so I’ve been making an effort to eat better. Help yourself. Once you’ve fixed yourself something, come sit on the couch and we can go over some rules.” Claire slid off her blazer and draped it over a wooden chair.  
“Nasty. That’ll have to change,” Moira called out, pulling an apple from the fridge. “Got nutella?”  
“Second shelf in the pantry. Dishes are in the cabinet next to it, silverware in the drawer below.”  
“Thanks.” Moira grabbed a plate, a knife, and a spoon, helping herself to a copious amount of nutella before returning to the couch with her food. “Okay, I’m ready. Fire away.”  
“All right. So, where to start …” Claire paced back and forth, rubbing her chin in thought. “Oh! Right. So, first of all – no bringing home anybody without giving me the heads up. And absolutely no strangers.”  
Moira raised her eyebrows at this, but didn’t comment further. “Noted. Continue.”  
Claire sighed. “Moira, save the commentary for once. Just let me get through this and then you can speak all you’d like.”  
Moira raised her eyebrows and held up her hands. “Okay, okay. I’ll shut up.” Vocally, at least. No way in hell she was going to refrain from nonverbal communication. Pantomime was her specialty.   
“Lights out for the place is midnight. No, this is not because I’m trying to control you, before you interject. It’s because I work fulltime and need to get at least six hours of sleep to function.” She paused and glanced at Moira before continuing. “As for bills … don’t worry about rent for now. I understand you’re working part-time instead of going to school, but hey. Save your money. I can afford this. I will, however, ask you to pitch in for food and, occasionally, maintenance fees. Electricity, heat, you know – the whole nine yards.”   
Moira’s eyes widened at the mention of free rent. Was she fucking serious? That was too generous. If Claire hadn’t told her to keep silent, she would have cut her off right then and there.   
“And other than that … well, there’s not much else. Oh – when I’m away for business, you have two options.” Claire paused, expression serious. “You can accompany me, or I can find somebody to stay and watch you here.”   
“Damn,” Moira muttered under her breath. Claire seemed to catch her disappointment.  
“I know, I know. It’s a liability – you’re great Moira, but … you’re wild!” She laughed, settling down beside her on the couch. “You think I’m that blind? No, I’ve got everything all figured out.”  
Moira let out an exaggerated sigh, throwing her head back. “Yeah, yeah, okay. Can I talk now?”  
Claire giggled, punching her arm. “Yes, you may. Go ahead. Speak your mind.”  
“Well, for one, I’m fucking amused by the notion that you think I’m wild.” Moira snorted, kicking out her feet. “Yeah, I do some shit, but it’s not like you haven’t. I mean, come ON. You’re Claire fucking Redfield. You ride bikes and slay zombies.”  
“Yeah, well, I’m past my prime, so to speak.” Claire ran one hand through her auburn tresses, smiling fondly. “I’m thirty, for crying out loud. I’m not half as adventurous as I used to be. But … hey.”  
“Hey what?” Moira challenged, staring her down.  
“One of the reasons I wanted you to come here is because you’re fun. You’re youthful, energetic, and just great to be around. I like your spunk. You make me feel young again.” She grinned, other hand finding its way to Moira’s wrist.  
“Jesus fuck Claire, it’s not like you’re a fossil. I mean, yeah, you’re kind of a big fucking mom half the time but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re still a badass. But if this is your fancy adult way of saying ‘let’s party together,’ then I’m so fucking down.”  
Claire flushed ever so slightly at that (or did she? Moira couldn’t tell at this point), and let out a laugh. “Party might be generous. But hang out? Sure. Yes, we can drink and smoke.” She looked at Moira, expecting a gleeful reaction. “Responsibly,” she added.  
“Woah now, smoke? You smoke weed?” Moira choked out, holding back a laugh of surprise.   
“It’s a nice relaxant, don’t you think? A healthier coping mechanism than most substances, for sure.”  
“You can say that again.” Moira grinned, yawning ever so slightly as long arms reached back to stretch over her head.  
“So, Moira. Returning to the first rule for a brief moment,” Claire began, propping one elbow against the edge of the couch, “is there anybody in your life right now that I should know about? Lucky ladies?” She gave a playful wink, and Moira turned scarlet at the mention of ‘ladies.’ She’d almost forgotten that she’d confided in Claire a few years ago.   
She’d had her fair share of girls over the past few years, but nothing had lasted. Most were ephemeral flings – a couple had survived a few months, but still ended up fizzling out. The last relationship she was in had ended over a month ago. Single and not so ready to mingle now – that was the current sitch.  
“Nah, none for me,” Moira responded, shrugging her shoulders. A sly grin crept across her face and she inched closer to Claire, feeling a thrill in the pit of her stomach as their faces came into proximity. “How about you? Huh? Does the kickass Claire Redfield have a man to call her own?” She folded her arms across her chest, pleased by her sudden effrontery.  
Claire laughed, shaking her head. “God, I wish you’d stop referring to me as if I’m some legend of sorts. I’m not. I’m just a woman.” She held her ground, not even flinching despite Moira’s advancements. “But to answer your question, no. I’m not seeing anybody. You don’t need to worry about anything.”  
“Bullshit,” Moira retorted, pulling back to better look at her. “I don’t believe that for a fucking second. I mean, Christ, look at yourself.” She gestured to the older woman, eyes wide. “Banging body, pretty face, and a killer personality to boot. And you’re telling me guys aren’t fucking you?”  
“So blunt, are we?” Claire responded, but a smile still adorned her features. “Nope, no men as of now. But thanks for the kind words. I prefer flying solo, anyway. Too busy to worry about a relationship.” She moved one hand to sweep some auburn locks off her shoulders, exhaling slowly.  
“How about hookups? Eh?” Moira grinned smugly, kicking the other woman’s leg with one foot. “You’ve got to at least be doing those.”  
“Yeah, sometimes. Not recently.” Claire came right out with it, and as surprised as Moira was, she really loved the honesty. Claire was so fucking real.  
“Stealing from my generation, huh?” Moira teased. “That’s all kids my age do. Chew and screw. Fuck, and then pretend shit didn’t happen. Or friends with benefits type shit.”   
“Are you kidding me? I was doing that long before your generation even existed!” Claire fired back, rising to her feet. “You kids are too funny. Millennials.”  
Moira snorted, following suit. “I’d love to hear some of these stories, you know.” She paused, before adding, “We are best friends, you know. I expect to learn some dirty fucking details.”  
“In time, Moira. In time.” Claire glanced around the room. “Need any help unpacking?”  
“Nah, I think I’ve got it. Thanks, though. I should probably get started on that, hah.” The brunette headed toward her room, giving a wave as she walked away. “I’ll catch you later?”  
“Yeah, sure. I’ll be here.” Claire flashed a quick thumbs up, and Moira groaned.  
“Don’t do that again, you cheeseball.”  
“Got it, Moira. Holler if you need me, okay?”

“Okay.”


	5. Falling Into Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira gets an invitation to hang out with Claire, but she's already got plans -- and she doesn't exactly want to disclose all the details.

Two weeks of her routine, and Moira had fallen into the swing of things all too easily. Wake up, come downstairs to leftover breakfast (and a nice little note left by Claire), head out to work, come home and binge-watch TV until Claire was back, and then have a nice dinner. It just felt so natural – so right – when she was around Claire. There was no pressure to [conform] or mediate her behavior, and no tension silently hanging in the air. She hadn’t felt this free in years.  
Weekends were even better. Moira usually had them off (unless it was a holiday or something – retail could be demanding), and Claire did as well. Sure, the two of them had their own lives to lead and friends to see. But the beauty of it was that they never tired of each other. In fact, there were days where Moira would straight up cancel her plans to spend the night with Claire.   
The older woman was either too nice for her own good, or just incredibly tolerant – at least that was how Moira saw it. There wasn’t a single time where she had turned down Moira’s offers to hang out. It flummoxed the brunette, because Claire was a busy woman and had limited free time to dole out amongst her varied friend groups. And yet, even with this limitation in place, she always found a way to make time for Moira.  
“Maybe I should stop asking her as much,” Moira thought out loud, “and see what happens.” Surely, Claire didn’t want it as much as she did. Perhaps she’d reciprocate every now and again out of politeness – but only because that was the right thing to do. “Maybe she really needs some breathing room, but is too nice to tell me.”  
It was a Friday, which was the redhead’s favorite night to go out and have fun. Usually, Moira asked her to go out to the pub or something (provided that she drink beforehand to stay out of trouble). But tonight, she would lay low. Or make other arrangements.  
“There’s definitely other things to do,” Moira reassured herself, reaching for her smart phone. A flick of her touch screen, and she was perusing her Facebook calendar for potential outings. Ah, yes – a dance party downtown, courtesy of a couple of old high school friends. “Booze, snacks, and more,” she mouthed as she read over the description. “Fucking yes.”  
“Moira?” a voice called, and the young woman’s head snapped up. Was that Claire? It was only four – she usually didn’t get in until six-thirty at the earliest.   
“Claire? Yeah, come in,” Moira responded, shutting off her phone and sitting up. A minute later, the door opened. Claire grinned, leaning against the doorframe. She looked ecstatic, and Moira assumed it was because she was done for the weekend.  
“Hey! Surprised to see me?”   
“Stole the thought right of my head, Claire. But it’s a fucking awesome surprise.” Moira stood up, running forward to high-five her. Claire held out her hand, then pulled it back without warning.  
“What the fuck, Claire?” Moira whined. The older woman simply gave a chuckle.  
“I thought high-fives were too cheesy for you.” Her raised hand fell and instead rested on the girl’s shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. “Anyway, joshing aside – you doing anything tonight?”  
Moira paused, trying to make sense of the question. Was it simply out of curiosity, or was this a potential invitation? She had no idea. Claire was fucking impossible to read.  
“Actually, I have plans for once. Why?” She leaned against the wall, absent-mindedly tapping her foot against the ground.  
“Oh, yeah?” Claire responded, shifting her posture so that she stood taller, “with whom? And why? Because I was going to offer to take you with me to the movies, but since you’ve got plans and all … I guess we’ll have to raincheck!”  
Holy fuck. So it was an invitation, after all – or had been, but Moira had fucked herself over. Of course, the one time I make plans … this happened. Go figure. Now, her next debacle: be honest with her about the party, or white-lie to avoid excessive worrying on Claire’s part? It was a catch-22 at best. Honesty might fuck her over, but lying was a precarious undertaking – especially when it came to safety. Claire was neurotic about that.  
“Some old friends.” Truth. “They’re having a little gathering, we’re probably just gonna watch some movies or some shit.” Terrible white-lie. Claire could probably see right through it – and she did, because the sigh that followed was a definite indicator.  
“’Movies or some shit?’ Moira, come on.” The older woman folded both arms across her chest, exhaling with disappointment. “I know that’s a euphemism for something else. Something … more along the lines of drinking and smoking, yeah?”  
No use in lying at this point. “Maybe. I mean, probably. Nothing’s really set in stone yet.” Moira shifted uncomfortably, twiddling her fingers behind her back.   
Claire sighed, moving to run one hand through auburn tresses. “Fine. Two rules.” She lifted a finger before continuing, making sure she had Moira’s full attention. “One: no driving. You get a ride there, and back. Call a cab. Call me. Absolutely no driving with anyone under the influence.” Another pause, and she added, “Two: You let me know when you’re back. Even if I’m asleep, wake me up. Got it?”  
Jesus Christ. It was just like the good ol’ days (though, in fairness, her own mother would never even allow her to go out partying in the first place). “Fine, fine. Understood. Got it. Roger. Whatever the fuck else means yes.”   
Her response elicited a laugh from Claire – success. Moira couldn’t help but grin at the older woman. “You’re cute when you laugh.” Fuck. It had slipped out without warning. No fucking filter, as per usual. The worst part was though, she wasn’t even drunk yet!  
Claire simply smiled, extending her arms in Moira’s direction. “Probably because I don’t do it nearly enough. Come here.”  
Moira froze in place, heart starting to race again. Slowly, she advanced forward, stumbling awkwardly into her friend’s arms. Claire pulled her in close, moving her hands up and down her back in a comforting gesture.  
“Just be careful, Moira. Okay? That’s all I want at the end of the day.” She pulled away, eyes soft and smile wide. “You’re my best friend. I don’t want anything happening to you.”  
“I will, promise.” Moira was well-aware of Claire’s tendency to over-worry – it dated back to the days of Raccoon and Rockfort. The older woman had lived through unspeakable horrors, losses, and breaches of trust. Hell, sometimes Moira even wondered how she was able to make such a miraculous recovery. Most people who didn’t know her well would never guess for a second that the woman had struggled through crippling trauma.  
Claire played everything off as if she were okay, but Moira knew her well enough by this point to know that she indeed was still hurting. It was the little things – like how she refused to date or pursue a serious relationship, or how she was constantly stressing over the welfare of loved ones. Things that could easily be overlooked as just general anxieties, but weren’t.   
Moira had wanted to reach out for some time, now, but always felt that it wasn’t her place … and in addition to that, feared that even a kind inquiry would be misconstrued as an invasion of privacy, thus triggering some sort of relapse. That was the absolute last thing she wanted. The whole situation killed her, really, because she cared for Claire and wanted to reach out … but for the same reason, held back in fear that their bond may be destroyed.  
It was a painful and burdensome thought to carry, and she really only succeeded in pushing it to the back of her mind by keying in on her own insecurities. Not like that helped her situation, either – self-internalization was perhaps her greatest enemy. Overthink everything, and accept nothing.   
Now, however, was not the time to lay buried beneath these heavy layers of abstruse introspection. Tonight was supposed to be filled with fun, and not worry. Time would run its course, and things would work themselves out.   
“Good. Now go out and enjoy yourself. Don’t let me hold you up.” Claire took a step back, stretching her arms out behind her. “I’ll probably just sit this one in. Remember – call me if you need me.”  
“I’m not leaving yet, God,” Moira teased, letting out a laugh. “You think I’d go out in this shit?” She gestured to her baggy sweats and plain cami, shaking her head. “This is loungewear. I gotta look good. Gimme five.”  
Five minutes was all she needed, really. Since she loved her sleep so much, Moira was very adept at putting herself together in a pinch. She ran into her room and threw open the closet, selecting a short black dress with some strappy heels and a grey scarf. Two seconds later and her clothes were on the ground, cami peeled off hastily and sweats kicked off carelessly. The younger woman threw on her dress and applied a thin coat of violet lipstick before slipping on her shoes and returning to the parlor. Claire eyed her with bemusement, lips twitching into a mischievous little grin as she studied the brunette’s new appearance.   
“Wow, Moira. I’m impressed. Doubted you for a second, but … hey. I guess I can’t say I’m that surprised.” She gave a playful eyebrow raise, which caused the younger girl to flush red. Was Claire being deliberate with these gestures, or simply just horsing around like she always did? Moira honestly had no idea.  
“It’s a special kind of skill, I know.” Moira puffed out her chest with pride, beaming from the older woman’s praise. “Comes in handy.” She glanced down at her phone, waiting for her friend to text her. Jennie would be her ride to the place – as for a way home, she hadn’t thought that far ahead. They’d probably all be too fucked up to drive.  
“Waiting on your friend?” Claire asked, settling down onto the couch with a glass of wine in tow.   
“Yeah,” Moira responded, idly fidgeting with her apps. “She should be here any sec—oh, yeah, here she is.” Amber eyes rose from the phone, dancing with excitement. “Okay, bye for real now! I’ll see you tonight. Promise I’ll let you know when I get in.”  
“Okay, Moira. Have fun!”


	6. Rulebreaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira, drunk and ready to crash, makes the mistake of hitching a ride home from a stranger. Claire, awake and anxiously awaiting her turn, is disappointed.

Headache was an understatement. Hell, Moira felt as if someone had cleaved her skull with a sledgehammer. Her vision was woozy and each new throb in her brain sent crippling waves of nausea that lurched from the pit of her stomach to the walls of her throat. It was impossible to think straight (or even think, for that matter). She was way too drunk. Two beers had turned into five, and then of course at that point her judgement was out the window. They’d brought out the hard liquor and Moira, unable to stop herself, had downed a good three shots. Or was it four?  
She had no fucking idea. Nor did she want to even want to spend time thinking about it, for it only made her feel more ill. The world around her was one dark blur, and she could barely make sense of her surroundings. Home, get home, she tried to tell herself, but fear and confusion only further muddled her mind.   
Finding a ride had been the most difficult endeavor. Yeah, she could have called Claire, but she wanted to avoid that scenario entirely. So instead she’d phoned random friends of friends, hoping that somebody was sober and normal and good hearted enough to drive a poor inebriated bastard back ten minutes to her dainty little duplex.  
That was how she’d ended up in the car of some twenty-something-year-old guy. He was a pizza boy, or so he claimed, and had no problem helping her out. Now, she lay in the back of his car, eyes closed in an attempt to placate her mind and keep the nausea at bay. Even as shitfaced as she was, Moira knew this had been a stupid decision. He was a total stranger – Claire would be ripshit. The thought nearly prompted her to puke on the spot, but she swallowed and took a deep breath, trying her hardest to fight through the inebriation.  
“Okay, this it?” the guy’s voice snapped her back to attention, loud and lucid despite the fog that clouded her conscience. Wearily, she glanced out the window and took a look at her surroundings. Harley in the driveway, lights on the upper floor – yep, right place indeed. And from the looks of it, Claire was still awake.   
Moira hastily nodded, feeling her stomach drop again. “Yeah, this is it,” she mumbled, jerking upward as she grappled for the door. She needed to get out of this vehicle, and fast, before Claire came out on her own to ask questions.  
“Hey, need a hand or something? I don’t think you’re fit to wal-“ the guy started, but Moira shook her head in violent protest, cutting him off.  
“Fine. Really. This is it. I just wanna be alone right now. I think – I know I can walk up a fucking flight of stairs,” she slurred, stumbling out into the cool night air.   
“What the fuck is your problem?” he retorted, and Moira was surprised to hear the sudden resentment in his tone. “I fucking save your ass and give you a ride home, and this is how you thank me?” His hands were tightly gripping the wheel, and he looked about five seconds from getting out and coming after her.  
Christ, Moira thought, and hands flew up to her head in frustration. Her world was spinning. She didn’t know how much longer she could put up this terrible veil of normalcy, nor did she know how much time she had before Claire came out for her. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m hammered off my fucking ass and just kinda wanna lay the fuck down and chill. I have no fucking idea who you are, anyway. Also, I’m a fucking lesbian, so don’t even try to suggest a booty call.” Fuck. Stupid, stupid. She’d just made things ten times worse. The guy slammed his fists down on the dashboard in anger, shouting a few mumbled pejoratives in her direction before speeding off.  
She was safe, though, for now. She had a two minute interlude, and then another debacle to tackle with Claire. There was no easy way around that encounter. It was one of the consequences she’d failed to keep in mind, and she’d soon be paying the price for it.  
Moira stood still for a moment, arms shaky as she took deep breath after deep breath. Once she felt she could move without wanting to spew her guts out, she started up the stairwell. Slowly, she raised one foot after the other, carefully attending to each step to prevent herself from taking a fall. She became so engrossed in doing so, however, that she failed to notice the turning of the door handle and the creak of the door. When she conquered the last step, her eyes widened with surprise and horror upon seeing Claire, crossed-armed and frowning with disappointment.  
“Hey,” Moira started, not knowing what else to say. Without a word, Claire grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her inside, dragging her over to the couch. She briskly walked off for a moment to shut the door, then returned.   
A closer look at Claire told Moira everything she had feared – Claire had seen the car, without a doubt. Claire knew. Fuck, Claire might have even heard the whole exchange. Moira had lied to her, and Claire was well aware of it. Anger. Disappointment. Exasperation.  
Reflexively, the younger girl bit down on one lip, fighting the urge to start crying. All filters were out the door thanks to the alcohol, and Moira continued to struggle for control. She could take her parents’ punishments and criticisms, but Claire? Claire was her best friend and absolute idol. Not only had she blatantly lied to her, but she’d let her down and was now about to get chewed out for it. The whole situation just felt so wrong, and Moira just wanted to throw herself at the woman with a bunch of snot-filled, sob-ridden apologies.  
“I’m very disappointed in you, Moira,” she began, shaking her head with a slight scowl. “I go out of my way to accommodate you … hell, I give you way more freedom than ANY eighteen-year-old should have, and what do you do with it?” She paused, letting the words hang heavy in the hair. “You take it, wave it around, stomp on it, and throw it back in my face!”  
Moira stifled a single sob, bringing one hand to cover her mouth. She was scared and upset. Two weeks, and this could be the night that ended everything. Back home to Barry and Kathy and Polly, with nowhere else to run. Back to her old room, where she’d hole herself in and fester and never be able to flourish as an independent woman.   
“God, I—I goddamned TOLD you to call me if you needed someone. TOLD YOU!” She threw up her hands and gave a bitter laugh, lips furling into an angry grimace. “But what do you do? Go hitch a ride from some … some random guy. Incredible. Not even a friend!” At these last words, her voice wavered slightly. Moira took note of this and timidly lifted her gaze to look at Claire. There was no more anger, only sorrow. Her blue eyes were misted with tears, and her lips were pressed tightly together. The sight caught Moira off-guard, and immediately guilt began to eat at her insides.  
How could she have been so foolish and careless to cast aside Claire’s anxieties in favor of a stupid night out? She knew that safety was one of the highest priorities in the other woman’s life – especially when it came to close friends and family. Moira knew she’d worried her sick. Her anger was justified.  
But still … the alcohol rattled her insides. Her veins burned hot with the absolute disdain of being reprimanded, even though this was Claire and not Barry. She was doing it out of love and care rather than authority, but at the moment that meant nothing to Moira.   
Conflicting emotions tore at her conscience like a flock of predatory vultures, and Moira suddenly launched up from the couch with gusto. “Fuck, can you hop off my ass, Claire? YEAH, I get it, I fucked up! I’m sorry! But … FUCK, okay? I hear this all the time. I know you worry. I just – I just want to fucking not be yelled at for once!” She barely managed to get out the words before breaking into a series of loud sobs, collapsing on the ground and hiding her face between wobbling knees.   
“Moira—“ Claire choked out, voice trembling as she lowered herself to the girl’s side. Moira instinctively turned and threw her arms around the older woman, burying her face in the nook of her neck.  
“I’m so fucking sorry, Claire. Don’t make me go back there. Please, fuck. I won’t fuck up again. I’ll stay out of your hair, just please don’t send me back—“ the words spilled out, jumbled and frantic and broken up by heaves and sobs.  
“Hon, God – no, of course not. Over this? No, no,” Claire reassured her, gently stroking the contours of Moira’s back. She sat in silence, keeping her catharsis quiet and personal as thin tricklings of tears ran down her cheeks.   
“I know I let you down. Fuck. I’m so stupid sometimes,” Moira lamented, still tightly pressed against the older woman’s shoulder. Despite the dismal atmosphere she’d launched the two of them into, she couldn’t help but feel at ease. It was nice in a maudlin sort of way, being able to share such closeness with Claire. The two of them remained entwined for a good five minutes, speaking only through gentle touches and caresses. Finally, Moira pulled back.  
“I’m sorry. I’ll drop it after this.” Her voice was small and quiet, lacking its usual edge. Claire nodded, quickly wiping her eyes and putting on a smile as if she’d never crumbled.  
“I’m glad you now have a better understanding of just how important your safety is,” she spoke, rising to her feet. “I expect that next time you’ll be more careful. Honesty is a must here, and I want you to honor that.” Her expression was once again serious, and Moira gave a quick nod in response.  
“Good. I’m going to head to bed – is there anything you need before I retire? Some water, food maybe? Ibuprofen?” She knotted her eyebrows and took a step toward Moira again, pressing the palm of her hand against the girl’s forehead to check for fever. “An ice pack?”  
Moira wanted to respond with ‘company,’ but she knew it was cheesy, selfish, and inappropriate given the circumstances. So she simply shook her head and smiled politely. “Nah, I’m fine. You should rest your fucking ass, though. You look exhausted.” Claire certainly looked worse for wear – she was always exhausted, but this on top of her already horrible sleep schedule? That was overkill.  
“Okay, Moira. I’ll go ‘rest my fucking ass.’” A smile, to let her know that she welcomed the lighter mood. “If you need me … wake me up. Or come in and bother me. I don’t mind.”  
“Thanks, Claire. Sleep well … okay?” She paused, and swallowed. “Can I say something, real quick?”  
Claire turned around, eyes curious. “Of course.”  
“I … I care about you too, okay? I know I seem like a selfish fucking prick half the time, but God. I care. Like. Please take the fucking day off tomorrow. I’ll fucking phone your boss if I need to.” She bit her lip nervously, hands dancing across her lap. She was definitely sobering up, but enough of a buzz remained to keep her filters down.  
The older woman smiled, and she reached out to touch Moira’s shoulder one last time before departing. “That’s awfully sweet of you, Moira, and I don’t doubt you would. I’ll work it out myself, but … thanks for caring.” She gave her a gentle squeeze and slipped off into her room, leaving Moira alone in the parlor.  
“I need to sleep for a thousand years,” the brunette mumbled to herself before heading off to bed.


	7. Secret Treasures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire has company, raising suspicions for Moira. When told she can chill in the older woman's room to watch TV, Moira decides to snoop around.

In the few days following the big blowout, Moira had significantly lessened her presence. She’d come out for meals and check in on Claire, but otherwise kept mostly to herself. She felt guilty more than anything – guilty for a multitude of reasons that only served to credit her irresponsibility to the fact that she was a selfish fucking asshole.  
If she wasn’t working, then she was out trying to keep herself preoccupied. Hanging with friends, shopping for groceries, going on walks, and even jogs sometimes. If she was at home, then she was usually holed up in her room with a bag of chips and her laptop.  
Claire seemed to show no change in attitude toward her, which was the funniest part. Even though Moira knew she’d let her down, Claire still exhibited the same warmth and friendliness. Moira didn’t have to worry about any awkward encounters, since Claire was always preoccupied with something work-related even if she was home for the night.   
On Wednesday night, Moira arrived back from her shift and noted that Claire’s SUV was already in the driveway … along with some other car with which she was unfamiliar. Bizarre, since she usually didn’t come back until a good two hours after Moira did and almost never had company over without warning. Shrugging, Moira pushed open the door and braced herself for the worst.  
The reality was much more mundane than what she’d been envisioning. Seated at the table alongside Claire was a man in his thirties with brown hair and a scruffy beard. Like Claire, he was dressed in professional work wear and bore the TerraSave logo on the cuff of one sleeve. Various papers were fanned out across the tabletop, which both man and woman were studying carefully. At the sound of Moira’s entrance, they looked up.  
“Hi, Moira! Glad to see you’re back.” Claire rose from her seat, gesturing for the man to follow her lead. Together, the two of them walked over.  
“Neil, this is Moira.” She turned the man and smiled before returning her attention to Moira. “Moira, Neil is a fellow TerraSave member. Hope you don’t mind us taking up some space in the kitchen. We had a bit of extra research to conduct, so we figured we’d just take it back here and do it in a nice, low-key environment.”  
“Hey,” Moira said, eying Neil with interest.   
“Hello. It’s a pleasure,” he responded, reaching out to shake her hand. As she returned the gesture, Moira studied him over. Was he really just a work friend, or was there something more? Eyes bounced from woman to man and back again before deciding that both were playing things off as strictly professional.  
She wasn’t convinced, but it wasn’t her place to say anything. If this was Claire’s latest boy toy … her heart sank at the thought. Not like she’d ever had a chance, but it would’ve been nice if she had brought home a woman instead. 

Relax, Moira. She never said this guy was her significant other. You’re over-analyzing things … again.  
“Likewise,” she responded, and grinned at both of them. “Well, don’t let me bother you – I’m just gonna grab some leftovers and I’ll be out of here!”  
Claire laughed, and tossed some auburn tresses over one shoulder. Her hair was down for nice, and it looked absolutely gorgeous. Moira tried her hardest not to stare, but it was a futile effort.   
“Don’t worry, Moira, we shouldn’t be too long.” She turned to Neil, who nodded in agreement. “In the meantime, why don’t you unwind? Go in my room and watch some TV on an actual screen as opposed to your laptop. And before you ask – it’s fine. I want you to. Hell, this is your place, too!”  
Moira put up both hands in mock protest, raising her eyebrows as she backed away toward the bedrooms. “Okay, Claire. Wasn’t gonna turn down that offer, but thanks anyway. I will most definitely take advantage of your offer.”   
She quickly turned away to mask the big grin that broke out across her face, taking quick strides toward the older woman’s room. Not only was she granted permission to enjoy her shows on the big screen, but also had the privilege of being able to see her room—without fear of getting caught.   
Her better judgement told her that poking around was immoral and an invasion of privacy, and though she desperately wanted to do the right thing, curiosity reigned supreme. Here she was, alone with the entirety of Claire’s personal belongings with not a soul in sight to watch or judge her. Imagine the things she could find, and the secrets she could learn!  
With a racing heart, Moira gently pushed open the door and stepped inside. She’d never really seen the interior of her friend’s room before. The closest she’d previously come was knocking at the door and asking Claire for various things – clothes, soap, a toothbrush. On such occasions, she’d go maybe two steps in whilst she waited for the older woman, and would be out within the minute.  
Now that she had the evening ahead of her, there was no need to rush or overlook anything. The room was sizable, even given the fact that it was somewhat dwarfed by the king-sized mattress that sat in the center. The whole place was extremely tidy, with not an item out of place. Clothes were folded in the drawers of her hamper (and nicer ensembles in the closet), organized by occasion and purpose. The whole setup was a stark contrast to Moira’s dumpy, dorm-like room. A few feet from the bed sat the TV, a nice 52inch screen that rested atop one of several storage drawers.  
Slowly, the brunette made her way over to the mattress, letting her fingers graze the sheets for a moment before sitting down. Taking a deep breath, she glanced back at the door, waiting a few seconds to make sure that Claire was not coming to check in on her. A minute of silence later, and she felt at ease.  
Moira rose from the mattress and made her way over to her bureau. One by one, she opened each drawer and quickly surveyed the contents. A long, drawn out pause when at last she found a neatly arranged collection of bras and panties, folded tightly in such a way that disguised their embellishments. Don’t do it, she thought to herself, but the temptation was too strong. Gingerly, Moira lifted a pair up and unfolded it, feeling her insides churn. In her trembling hands was a lacy black thong, and the images that soon flooded her mind caused her knees to buckle slightly. Fuck.  
Slowly, she ran one finger along the silky fabric, letting out a ghost of a moan. Every fiber of her being ached for Claire, for sweet embrace and gentle curves and husky groans—  
Fuck. She was getting carried away. Now was not the time to fantasize and get off. There was too much at stake. Things were still shaky between the two of them … and not to mention, Neil was over.  
“Okay, fuck, how was this folded,” she muttered under her breath, hastily arranging the garment in about a million different positions before the fold looked satisfactory. She carefully laid in back in place, closing the drawer with a drawn out sigh of relief. Dare she explore even further?  
Her mind was ravaged with dirty thoughts, and she longed to discover such a side of Claire. Did she stash away sex toys some place? What were her kinks? Did she top or bottom, and just how often did she crave action? Did she, too, suffer from carnal urges? So many questions left unanswered. Moira’s quest was just beginning. Perhaps she’d only get so far today, but she planned on becoming very, very familiar with the older woman.  
Patience, Moira. She moved back toward the bed, glancing underneath to see if there was anything stored away. Nope. Perhaps Claire was more of a private person, meaning the next logical spot to inspect was the attached bathroom.   
Moira forayed into the shower area, taking careful note of what Claire left out. Shampoo, conditioner, soap, a razor, face wash, a loofah, and body scrub. Nothing out of the ordinary. She turned toward the sink and examined her reflection in the mirror for a moment before glancing down at the cabinets. Jackpot – or so she hoped.  
Slowly, she pried open the doors, reaching one hand in to rummage through sundry belongings. A box of tampons, spare razors … and aha! Nestled in the back was a lump poorly cloaked by face towels and plastic bags. Carefully, Moira removed the cover and looked upon her prize. Sure enough, a small assortment of sex toys greeted her eager eyes. She gave a snicker before quickly and carefully covering them up again. Moira shut the cabinets and returned to the main bedroom, finally deciding to attend to the original task at hand and turn on the TV.  
She flipped the channel to CSI and plopped back against an assortment of pillows. Despite the fact that it was a new season premiere and her favorite show, Moira could not focus. Her mind was still a million miles away, lost in her own Wonderland where reveries of Claire Redfield prancing in skimpy lingerie reigned supreme.  
After an hour or so, Moira decided it would just be easiest to call it a day and head to bed. Grabbing the remote, she shut off the TV with a lazy flick of her wrist and proceeded to roll off the mattress. She made her way back into the kitchen, where Claire and Neil appeared to just be finishing things up. She was helping him sort papers into manila folders, and he was gathering his belongings from the kitchen. Moira’s entrance caused both of them to look up and smile in greeting.   
“Oh hi, Moira! I was just preparing to walk Neil out. We’re all done for the night.” Claire brushed some hair out of her eyes, nodding over in Neil’s direction.  
“Yes – and thank you, Claire, for helping me out with this. I know I can always count on you.” Neil offered a grin in the redhead’s direction, reaching out to pat her back. “It’s the people like you who make TerraSave such a successful organization.”  
“Please, Neil.” She dismissed his compliments with a half-hearted laugh, waving her hand across the air. “Don’t overdo it, now.” Claire sauntered to the door and swung it ajar, leaning her body weight against it to keep it open.  
“All right, Claire. Take care.” He paused at the doorframe, eyes softening as he gazed upon her. “Have a good night.”  
“Yeah, you too. Get some rest.” She smiled fondly as he walked out, watching him for a few moments before closing the door. “Well! How was your evening? Watch anything good?”  
Moira shrugged, because she honestly couldn’t remember any details from the CSI special. “Some crime TV. Nothing special.” She paused, before recalling that the whole TV thing had been a privilege. “Thanks for that, by the way. Like, you didn’t have to let me use YOUR shit. That was super fucking generous.”  
“Don’t be silly – you’re always more than welcome to use my things.” Claire laughed, moving to stretch her arms. “God, I’m wiped. I think I’m going to head to bed. Sorry I don’t have more time to catch up. We’ll do a movie night or something tomorrow.”   
“Hey, don’t sweat it. You need your sleep more than anybody I know.” Moira folded her arms across her chest. “What about Friday? You owe me the raincheck outing, remember?”  
“Ah, shit – can’t. Got plans with Neil.” Claire paused for maybe half a second before adding, “Work things.”   
She was on the defensive – which was only aided in proving the fact that there was something more going on between the two of them. Moira felt her heart drop in defeat. Not wanting Claire to pick up on her disappointment, she played it off with a smile.  
“Work things? Heh.” A pause, and then, “So boring for a Friday night. Have fun. You still owe me, though!”  
Claire raised an eyebrow, then smiled. “Tease me all you’d like, but I like to be productive. And of course! I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”  
Will you now? Moira wondered, but didn’t question her aloud. “Okay. Well … ‘night.”  
“Goodnight, Moira.” Claire slipped off into the room, and then shut the lights.  
Moira stayed standing for a while before finally deciding to head off and rest.


	8. 'Work Things'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira stumbles in on some secret activity. Devastated, she sets out to spend the night elsewhere in order to take her mind off things.

It sure didn’t feel like a Friday. Work had been dead for the past few hours, which was an insane anomaly given the fact that the mall was usually overrun by wandering kids. Moira groaned in boredom, leaning back against the counter as she surveyed her empty store. Her coworker, Kelly, had called out last minute, leaving her alone to work a six hour closing shift.   
Thank God she only had thirty more minutes to go. One hand instinctively slid into the back pocket of her jeans, fishing for her smart phone. Flicking the screen, she unlocked it and gave a cursory glance at her social media feeds. Nothing too exciting. It was only eight-thirty, after all – the night was still young, unless you were Claire Redfield.  
Speaking of Claire, Moira couldn’t help but wonder just what the redhead and her boy-toy were up to. She wasn’t enough of a partier to go out to clubs on her own, so that likely meant a more low key night. And low key meant staying at home, so Moira braced herself for what she thought was to come.

Finally, nine o’clock. Doors locked, registers closed, store cleaned. She’d already put all the clothes back on the racks and vacuumed the premises because activity had been so slow. Finally, she sealed the deposit, tossed it in the safe, and went into the back room to retrieve her belongings. Only fifteen minutes, and Moira had successfully shut down the entire store.  
Jingling her keys absent-mindedly, she strolled back to her car and threw open the door before sliding in. She rolled down the windows and cranked up the radio. The drive home was a mere five minute route comprised of winding backroads, which proved to always be traffic free even in the middle of rush hour. It was the little things in life that Moira was thankful for.   
She let out a gentle sigh as she pulled into the driveway of the duplex, noting that her usual spot was indeed taken by Neil’s car. Just as she’d thought.  
Two options lay at her fingertips – step in, get changed, and run back out, or simply just retire to her room and mind her own business. Sure, Claire was allowed to have company but it was Moira’s place now as well. The brunette stayed in her car for a moment to let this all mull over, before deciding that she’d make her decision after scoping out the situation.  
Moira bounded up the stairs, nearly tripping over her loose-laced converse. As soon as she reached the door, she pushed it open. An empty kitchen greeted her.  
“Huh, okay.” She glanced around, kicking her shoes off to the side before entering any further. The whole house seemed eerily quiet. The living room, too, was deserted – only a lamp served to illuminate the darkened area.  
“This is so fucking bizarre,” Moira muttered to herself, yanking open the fridge to grab a snack. Her options were limited – neither one had gone food-shopping in days. “Fucking gross,” she remarked upon surveying her options (carrots, celery, and other healthful ‘Claire’ foods) and promptly shut the door with nothing in her hand.  
Suddenly, her ears picked up on the faintest sound – something akin to what resembled breathing, but Moira knew better. She froze, standing still and silent in hopes of once again tracing the sound. Nothing but the hum of the dishwasher, but a few seconds later she heard it again. This time, it was considerably louder and came across as more of a whimper.  
“Fuck,” she thought, carefully making her way toward Claire’s bedroom. Snooping, again. Her better judgement told her to run off, change, and let them be, but she ignored it. She was curious, and she was jealous. A telltale light emanated from the room’s entrance.  
The door sat slightly ajar, providing enough of a view for Moira to peer in without making her presence known. Her heart thudded in worry, adrenaline already beginning to course through her veins. There was absolutely nothing she could do to prepare herself for what was to come. She’d made it this far – there was no way she would chicken out now.  
She saw Neil’s shadow and watched as he came into view, ambling toward the bed clad in nothing save for a pair of boxer briefs. He stood directly in front of Claire, blocking Moira’s view for a few torturous seconds before moving aside.   
Claire was spread out on the mattress, completely stripped of all her clothing and the sight caused Moira to gasp in awe. The older woman had a stunning physique – porcelain skin, unmarred save for one small mole on her toned stomach, strong, shapely thighs, and gentle breasts that rose and fell with each breath that escaped her parted mouth.  
She was even more beautiful in the nude, stripped of all professionalism and austerity. To see her sprawled out with a smile on pink cheeks and a thin layer of sweat on smooth skin was a reminder of just how human she was, and it made Moira’s throat tighten.   
The younger woman felt her face flush bright red, and heat blossomed from burning cheeks all the way down to her faintly aching folds. The tremendous sight before her easily overshadowed any negativity, despite the fact that her heart felt as if it had been ripped in two. She was too engaged in the moment to even consider thinking about anything else.  
“So much for ‘work things’,” she thought, continuing to watch as Neil lay himself atop the other woman. Claire smiled fondly at him, lifting her torso up ever so slightly so she could easily wrap both arms around his broad shoulders. One of his hands drifted slowly to her rear, before he roughly groped the area, digging in his fingernails. The movement elicited a sharp cry from the redhead.  
“I—God. I don’t want to see her like this … with some fuckguy.” Moira muttered, peeling herself from the doorframe and taking a few steps back. As she was making her way back to her room, she heard Claire’s voice cut through the silence.  
“Hey, what time is it? Is Moira back yet?”  
She froze, but then continued her hurried walk back to the shoebox she called her own. From her doorwell, she heard a “Shit. Her car’s there,” and the frantic shuffling of two people attempting to gather their clothes and belongings.  
Several minutes later, and there was a knock on her door. Moira didn’t particularly feel like answering it, but she figured it would be for the best. “Come in,” she hollered, too lazy to move off her bean bag.   
“Moira,” Claire started, breathless and frazzled and dressed in typical pajama attire (sweats and a cami). “Moira, hey. Sorry I didn’t hear you come in. We were pretty engrossed in the assignment—“  
“It’s fine! I understand. You’re a goddamned workaholic.” Moira smiled, not giving any indication that she knew what the two had really been up to. “Is he still here?”  
“Yeah, we’re just taking a little break. Grabbing some food. Can I get you anything? Or are you headed out?”   
Moira wanted to say she was staying in, but she knew that Claire probably wanted her out. So she put on a grin and looked toward the closet. “Heading out in a bit. Nothing wild, I promise. Just going over a friend’s.”   
The tension in Claire’s posture seemed to dissipate just at that statement, and she broke into a wide grin. “Moira, that’s great! Seeing friends is always important. I like how you make that a priority.”  
“In fact, I’ll probably crash there for the night. She said she wanted company, so I don’t mind.”   
“Oh?” Claire tilted her head slightly, but smiled nonetheless. “Well, all right. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Have fun! And be safe.”  
Moira nodded. “Will do. See ya, Claire!”  
She watched the older woman disappear, and let out a quiet sigh. Reluctantly, Moira dressed herself in a short pink romper and headed out the door. She had no idea where she was headed, and no idea what to do – all she knew was that she needed a distraction, and fast.


	9. Spare Trash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira makes an unexpected visit to her old abode.

Why didn’t her ADD ever come in handy when she needed it? It never failed her when she needed to focus and be productive, but somehow it managed to slip away every time she sought out a distraction.  
Nothing was working. Moira felt like a piece of crumpled newspaper drifting amongst a vivid, colorful and creative crowd. She was likely the only one in the pub that wasn’t swept away by the contagious vivacity that the atmosphere engendered.   
Of course, being stone cold sober didn’t help her case, either. If she really wanted to, she could flirt her way to a cocktail or two. Moira held back, however, since the whole process seemed even more unappealing than usual. So she sat in silence, sipping a Shirley Temple and trying her hardest to lose herself in the art of people watching. No such luck.  
She couldn’t stop thinking about Claire, about how damn beautiful the woman was and how she’d likely never have a chance of wooing her – at least not for a while, given the night’s happenings. Claire was with Neil. Moira wanted to be happy for her and was to a certain degree, but it was difficult. All of her confidence was gone.   
The brunette knew self-deprecation wasn’t the answer, but it sure was an easily accessible solution. She usually had no problem when it came to self-esteem, but tonight was different. Knowing that she was definitively not Claire Redfield’s romantic interest was a big blow to her ego, even if she had been well aware that such a chance was slim to begin with.  
“I’ll get her eventually,” she decided, pressing the cold glass to her mouth and taking a long sip of her drink. Most definitely not now, of course – she wasn’t that much of a dick as to interfere with the older woman’s life for the sake of her own personal affairs.   
But time was a mighty thing, and Moira was awfully resilient. It wouldn’t be too long before she regained her signature boldness. Perhaps, too, proceeding slowly would better allow her to examine the dynamic of Claire’s relationship. Right now she was being a pure cynic, not bothering to view things from any other angle other than her own stilted perspective.   
Memories of Wednesday night once again began to flood her mind. She saw the drawer of lingerie, the collection of toys – all precious hallmarks outlining the lustful side of the woman she so wished to conquer. Honey eyes shut themselves, and Moira began to fantasize about the black thong, about Claire sprawled on the bed except her eyes were smiling up at her and not Neil.  
She could have easily lost herself in an endless series of naughty reveries, but chose to return to the situation at hand because already she felt herself getting carried away. Her thighs trembled and the heat of desire spread itself through her body. Moira Burton had never wanted anyone – or anything – so badly in all of her eighteen years.  
“I will fuck her,” she whispered to herself, steeling her resolve with a fierce look of determination. Too bad nobody else was there to see it. The thought sent shivers of excitement down her spine, because it sounded so wanton and carnal. She had to earn Claire’s attention. That would mean showier outfits and brasher language. Anything to catch the older woman off guard and humiliate her would grant Moira the window of opportunity she so needed to come onto her. If she didn’t wear Claire down enough, she’d surely be shot down.  
“Well, for now I guess I’ll just make the fucking best of things.” Moira flicked the table mindlessly before pushing aside her drink and rising to her feet. This place just wasn’t doing it tonight. She’d had her stroke of genius, and now she was done and ready to pass out. She grabbed her purse, walked out the door, and headed back to her car. No point in returning to the duplex – she couldn’t, really. The brunette had already told Claire she’d be crashing elsewhere for the night.  
Moira sighed, bringing her head forward to rest between both arms as she thought about her options. She could call up a friend, but that was effort and energy that she just simply didn’t have at the moment. The brunette was hardly in the mood to socialize, let alone party. With a sinking heart, she realized her best option was to return back to her parents’ for the night.   
She considered just pulling in and making an impromptu entrance, but giving no warning would probably upset her parents more. Better to err on the side of caution and call ahead of time, even though it would mean giving an explanation now rather than later.   
Can’t run forever.  
Groaning, Moira punched in her family’s number and pressed the phone to her ear. Ring, ring. No answer yet. It was getting to be pretty late, after all, and both her parents were quick to retire. Polly was probably out with her friends.   
Just as Moira was about to hang up herself, the gruff voice of her father cut through the line. “Hello? Moira, baby, is that you?”  
Moira sighed into the receiver before answering. “Yeah, it’s me. I’m crashing for the night.” Eyes shut themselves in anticipation of interrogation on her father’s part. Of course he couldn’t just let it be and hold the questions – he just had to pry his nose into everything.  
“Why? What happened?” His voice boomed into her hear, and she felt her lips twitch in frustration. “You have a place. Did Claire throw you out?”  
“No, Claire didn’t throw me out. Everything’s fine.” She paused, glancing out the window of her car. “It’s just that she has company over and I don’t want to intrude. Also, I’m closer to your place anyway.”  
Barry was silent for a moment. Finally, he spoke. “Fine. Are you sober?”  
“Yes, for fuck’s sake I’m sober!” She lashed out without warning, going on the offensive instinctively. This was followed by a flinch, because she knew that Barry was about to chew her out for her disrespect.  
“You clean up that language or else you’ll be back here permanently,” he threatened. Moira didn’t take it to heart, but decided it was easier to comply than to fight. It would shut him up regardless, so she just played along.  
“Yeah, okay. I’ll be over in five.”   
“I’ll be waiting.”  
Tiredly, she shut off her phone and revved up the engine. Although she didn’t like to admit it, having her parents close-by was a nice advantage. Two songs on the radio later, and she was back in her old, familiar driveway with the basketball court.   
Home sweet home.  
Barry came out within seconds to greet her – folded arms and all. He nodded in her direction, an acknowledgement of her arrival, and disappeared back into the house. Moira followed suit, lazily rubbing at one eye with the back of her hand.   
The kitchen still smelled faintly of beef stew and cinnamon spice. Nostalgia came flying at her like a brick, and Moira nervously chewed on one lip as she attempted to ward off the incoming realization that she was indeed homesick. The worst part of it, though, was that there was nothing here for her to be fond of – no one to talk to or keep her company, no one who would give half a damn about her personal problems.  
The ambivalence of it all only further churned her stomach and roused anxiety. She wanted to cry and punch a wall. Another night alone with her thoughts, in quarters shared by people who were supposed to be family. She felt like a stranger, a wandering intruder whose presence was not welcomed.   
Not wanting to waste any more time, Moira wandered into what used to be her room. She’d only been gone for a month, yet her space had already been put to use. Storage. Boxes everywhere, filled with sundry trinkets and other junk. Her bed was barely accessible thanks to piles of old clothes and shoes that had nowhere else to go.  
“Spare trash, huh?” she muttered aloud, kicking aside a pile of clothes. “I fucking feel you.”


	10. Same Old Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire gets pensive about things.

“She say anything?”   
“No, nothing. Other than that she’s headed out to her friend’s to spend the night.”  
Neil stretched his arms over his head, eyebrows raising in interest. “Spend the night?”  
Claire sighed, lingering in the doorframe with one hand firmly planted on her forehead. “Yeah. I just—“  
“You just what?” Neil responded, leaping off the bed and to his feet. He’d yet to recover his clothes, instead choosing to wrap one of the blankets around his waist. “Claire, she didn’t see anything. That’s the only thing that matters right now.” Within seconds he was beside her, one arm reaching out to pull her into an embrace.  
Claire didn’t fight him, but she didn’t reciprocate, either. “So you think. I don’t know where she’s headed off to. God knows what she’ll get herself into. Last time was bad enough.” Worry was clearly etched across fine features, turning full lips into a somber pout.   
“Claire. Relax. I’m sure she’ll be fine. I think it’s great that you care about her, but don’t you ever allow yourself to … you know, focus on you?” His voice softened, causing the red-head to turn and fully face him.   
“You know that’s impossible,” she replied, letting her head drop against one of his shoulders. The whole situation felt increasingly awkward and uncomfortable by the minute, and yet she still couldn’t will herself to pull away.  
She and Neil shared a very complicated, convoluted relationship – he was her boss, she was the star-studded employee. Friends with benefits bordering on something more, though it was more he who sought the emotional investment. When it came to any sort of intimate relationship, Claire was more than cautious. Rule number one: never get too close.  
Thirty years old and still a single woman, with the addition of not having had one serious relationship in seven years. It wasn’t that she had difficulty attracting others – she was a pretty woman with a caring heart, easily able to charm those around her through the art of conversation. In fact, she was almost constantly dealing with a line of often relentless suitors who were determined to make her theirs.  
Ever since Rockfort, Claire Redfield had deliberately avoided any relationship that involved a serious commitment. Other than Chris, Jill, and other longtime friends whom she considered family, she was noticeably aloof. Every new person that came into her life was carefully monitored, and often times more than not she’d spend hours obsessively analyzing the potential trajectories of the relationship.  
Neil had started as a drunken fling (she had no qualms when her inhibitions were down), but ended up developing into something more thanks to the beneficial nature of it all. He was enamored of her and gave her promotions, and she in turn was able to accomplish more for the small fee of satisfying him when he needed it. Not a difficult task, but a tedious one to put up with at times. And the more time the two of them spent together, the more invested he became in her – something that constantly ate at her conscience because she didn’t harbor the same sentiments.   
Claire didn’t fret too much, though, because thankfully professionalism acted as her much cherished barrier and prevented the tryst from developing into something more. Neil allowed her to have her moments, but at the same time maintain her distance and autonomy. He was a great security blanket, save for the fact that everything had to be kept a secret. Not that she minded entirely, but sometimes it felt unnecessary.   
“Come on,” he urged, lifting her chin up with one hand. “You’ll feel better when we’re done.” His gaze – hungry, lustful, faintly caring – met hers, and with a final sigh she acquiesced. “All right.”  
His lips joined hers and the two of them moved toward the bed, his fingers once more moving to remove her clothes. Strong hands slipped under her cami and she let out an involuntary moan as her hips bucked forward. Sometimes, the easiest way to let go was simply allowing her body to do all the talking.  
Neil was taking initiative as he always did, and soon the two fell atop the mattress, legs entwined and mouths still pressed together. It was over almost as soon as it started – fucking, plain and simple with no fluff or foreplay to draw it out, mainly because Claire wasn’t feeling up to par. Even with the many risks they had to be mindful of, sex was never usually a hurried activity. He loved pleasuring her, and she would happily receive it. Tonight, however, was another story.  
“Is that it?” he asked, rolling over on his side to face the woman. Claire nodded slowly, eyes fluttering with exhaustion. Parting was never a problem – after all, they were nothing more than a fling. Strictly friends with benefits, but her mind was challenging that notion. She was so tired, so worn, so stressed – Neil himself held no appeal, but his immediate proximity did. And all the redhead wanted was to be held, if even only for a minute.   
She kept quiet, though, because she was rational. Neil was Neil, her pretentious, shallow-minded superior and had not one trait that she found herself emotionally attracted to. Had she been in a healthier state of mind, there would be absolutely no desire to seek out anything more than sex from him.  
“Well, all right.” He rose from the bed, leaning over to retrieve his crumpled clothing from the ground. “Thanks for tonight.” His eyes met hers with a sympathetic and grateful gaze. “I know you weren’t particularly in the mood … so really, thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”  
“It’s nothing, really.” She shrugged it off with forced laughter, mind still a million miles away. “Yeah, I’ll be in tomorrow at the usual time.” Claire reached for her terrycloth sweats and tugged them on, jumping to both feet. “Let me walk you out.”  
Neil smiled, and she moved to touch his arm before strolling to the door. He leaned down, pressed his lips against her forehead, and nodded farewell as he stepped outside.


	11. Family Affair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit to home brings back some unpleasant memories from the past.

“Ugh.”  
The groan was instinctive as Moira opened her eyes to the less than scenic backdrop of the shithole that used to be her room. The old relic of a digital alarm clock read 8AM, and she let out a small sigh. Since it was a Saturday, her parents weren’t out at work. Knowing her luck, they were probably already downstairs and waiting for her to come down and explain herself.  
No use in stalling. She had a twelve o’clock shift she had to be in for and didn’t want to waste any free time malingering in her parents’ place. Moira kicked off her sheets and rose to her feet, walking over to the dresser to retrieve her phone.  
Two unread texts, one missed call. One flick of a finger told her that Claire was the culprit, and Moira couldn’t help but smile as she perused the poorly phrased texts.  
“Hey Moira. Jst checking up on u. I know u said u were goin 2 a friend’s but jst txt or call me when u get this. Thx.”  
Laughing, the brunette leaned against the wall and punched in Claire’s number. After about two rings, she answered with a “Hello? Moira?”  
“Hey, you fucking dork. Remind me to help you with basic texting 101 when I get home.” A snicker, and her lips furled into a wide grin as she awaited the older woman’s response.  
“Oh, come on! I didn’t think I was that bad.” A pause, and she continued. “Anyway, thanks for getting in touch. I know you’re probably fine, but I just wanted …” her voice trailed off, leaving Moira waiting in anticipation.  
“Yeah?”  
“ … just wanted to hear it from you yourself.” The cheesiness of it all caused Moira to laugh into the receiver, even though the comment itself was genuine and sweet.   
“Jesus, Claire. Anyway, I’m up and ready to peace the fuck out of here as quickly as I can. I’ll see you soon, okay?”  
“All right,” Claire responded, and Moira could practically see the relief on her face. “See you soon, Moira.”  
Throwing her phone into her pocket, Moira took one last look around the room to make sure she had all her things. A minute later and she was bounding down the stairs, bee-lining it for the back door. Barry giving her shit for not saying goodbye was the least of her worries and the last thing on her mind. She successfully managed to sneak through the hallway unnoticed, passing the kitchen and slipping out into the backyard. Hurriedly, she ran for her car and jammed the keys in the ignition.   
The rest of the Burton clan was seated comfortably at the kitchen table, enjoying a delightful home-cooked breakfast of bacon, pancakes, and hash browns. The roar of Moira’s engine caused Barry to look up in alarm. Surprise, and then irritation after animated his rough features.   
“Is that – Goddamn it. That girl is asking for trouble.” Thoroughly annoyed, he threw down his fork into the mostly empty plate that rested in front of him. “She knows I demand respect, but yet she purposefully pulls stunts like these just to get under my skin!”  
“Stunts?” Polly asked. “Who, Moira? Wait – I’m confused. Was she here?”   
“Yeah, she sure was.” Barry exhaled, moving one hand to rub his forehead. “Pulled in to the driveway at goddamned midnight. Said Claire had company and she felt uncomfortable, so I let her in out of the graces of my heart. Then what does she do? Crash and leave without so much as a ‘thank you’ or even a ‘hello!’” With each word spoken, his voice boomed louder and his expression grew angrier. Both Polly and Kathy watched in absolute silence, afraid to say anything.  
“This is not the little girl I raised. God, I don’t know where I went wrong, Kathy …” his voice fell to a low quiver, and frustration quickly dissolved into sorrow.   
Nobody said a word, for the answer rested before them. The family dysfunction lay rooted at one squalid, unfortunate mishap that dealt irreparable damage to all of them. The secret that held the answer as to why Moira was so bitter toward her family, and why Barry masked his guilt behind a veil of anger. The one thing that had almost stolen a life, but ruined four.   
It was a hushed, horrid truth, one that even close friends knew little of. It was always referred to as “the incident” and the most they’d offered in conversation was that it was a very bad accident that led to some poor responses, and, subsequently, strained relations in their seemingly peaceful home.  
It had all happened in the blink of an eye. Moira was seven, Polly was four – the two of them were playing around as they always did. Same old games, same old routine … that was, until Moira noticed that the usually locked dark green mysterious cabinet was sitting slightly ajar, a black strip of mystery visible from the shadow of the door.  
Curious, she’d changed her course of action and instead headed straight for the cabinet. New territory, and she was the fearless pioneer. Two little hands pried open the door fully to reveal an array of her father’s prized weaponry, shiny and heavy and piquant to a little girl with a large imagination.  
Excitably, she’d lifted one into her tiny arms and turned around to face Polly with a triumphant grin. The pioneer was now the warrior, fearless and brave and ready to protect her loyal kin –  
That was, until her fingers slipped. A loud bang, and then the warmth of her sister’s blood on her hands and legs, bright and red and pooling at her feet. And then, her worst nightmare – Polly was but a corpse, limp and pale as the life spilled out of her at an alarmingly quick pace.  
Moira had screamed until she physically couldn’t, until her throat rasped and her lungs collapsed. Barry was down in two seconds, eyes bulging in horror as he shouted for his wife, hands trembling as he turned toward his eldest daughter. All he could see was red – red, sanguine rage that he effortlessly displaced onto her with a swift smack to her face and a showering of vituperation. It was the only thing that made the sight before him bearable.   
Kathy had come next, phone in hand and eyes spilling with tears. She, too, could not bear to look upon the sight of her dying daughter – with a shake of her head and a few hysterical sobs, she fed Moira look after look of disdain and disappointment.   
The police had stormed in, lifted Polly onto a stretcher and whispered supportive, hopeful things into her ear. They assuaged both parents calmly. “She’ll live. You called just in time.” And as they saved a little girl’s life, they did nothing to help the other one who was already beginning to wilt, drowning in confusion, hurt, and implacable guilt. Even after everything had subsided and Polly was safe, Barry didn’t apologize to Moira. He took to further screaming and punished her with time-outs and whippings, stirring what would be the start of her deep-rooted antipathy toward him.  
It was a fracture that had never been set – a bone-deep scar that shook the foundation of the Burton family. Barry had never forgiven himself for hurting Moira. And even though she masked her pain behind a tough and callous exterior, he knew she was still aching with self-reproach and resentment. Everything had festered for far too long. Extending an olive branch was futile, especially when he couldn’t even bring himself to act kindly around her.  
All three still sat heavy in their silence. Kathy’s eyes found his and Polly looked down at her plate, expression suddenly very solemn and scared. Barry hadn’t even spoken a word about the incident, and yet just plain insinuation was more than enough to darken the mood.  
“All I can hope is that someday we’ll both be able to see eye to eye again,” he finally spoke, rasping ever so slightly. “That’s all.”


	12. Honesty Is One Hell of A Drug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oops! Claire's caught in a lie.

Knowing Claire wouldn’t be home until the evening, Moira spent the day meandering town and window shopping to the best of her ability. When dinnertime finally neared, Moira jogged up the stairs to the duplex excitedly, stopping to catch her breath before she opened the door. “Hey, Claire! I’m back!”  
She heard the sound of quickening footsteps, and Claire emerged from the door of her bedroom. Her auburn tresses were pulled up in a messy bun, and she had already changed into pajamas. The brightest of smiles danced across her face at the sight of the younger woman.  
“Moira! Hi. Did you have fun last night?” She ran forward to pull Moira into a hug, and whilst Moira normally would have protested (she hated being touched), she didn’t – after all, this was Claire.  
But now a new issue suddenly sprouted, and it had to do with honesty. Usually Moira was pretty good about foreseeing these kinds of things, but this one had seemingly flown under the radar. Probably had a lot to do with the fact that she had been too preoccupied brooding over Claire and Neil. Ah, well.  
To tell Claire the truth about her night or to lie … again? She remembered the woman’s reaction from the last time. Disappointment that had certainly put a strain on their relationship – and that was the last thing Moira wanted. She was here to bolster things between the two, not weaken.  
“Well … to be honest, nah.” She paused, before quickly adding, “--but it wasn’t bad. Don’t get me wrong. I ended up crashing with Barry. I know I told you I was seeing friends – and I was going to – but I kind of changed my mind last minute as soon as I got behind the fucking wheel.”  
Claire pursed her lips and looked her over in confusion. “You went back home? How come?” Her eyes suddenly widened as epiphany struck, and she didn’t even give Moira a chance to answer before speaking again. “Oh, no … it’s Neil, isn’t it?”  
She’d been honest already, so why not continue the trend? What did it matter now? If Claire really did value those sorts of traits, she’d understand – and perhaps be even more understanding to her cause. “Yeah, partially. I don’t know. You have a right to have people over. After all, it is your fucking home, too. It’s just that I get weird-ass vibes from the fucker, and I don’t know.” Her voice trailed off, and she offered a shrug. “I just needed some space, I guess. It’s not like I’m going to fucking run off every time he comes around, but you know.”  
Claire looked at her for a long moment before giving a slow nod, expression unreadable. “I understand. But you realize this is strictly a wor—“  
Moira had planned to go about this calmly and politely, but at Claire’s sudden attempt to lie and cover her affair screamed hypocrisy that sent her into a sudden, blinding rage. “Oh yeah? Really? So that explains why you were fucking him then, right?” The words flew out without warning, but Moira held no qualms. Claire had guilted her badly for lying, so why couldn’t she do the same?   
The older woman’s mouth dropped open in shock, hands flying up in protest. “Moira! I—“  
“Claire, let’s be real. There’s no use in hiding this shit. I thought we were aiming for honesty here, huh? And what do you go and fucking do? Lie to me. In my face.” Anger was predominant now, but the hurt of betrayal was starting to sink in. “So fucking thanks for that. And you know what? Yeah, I saw you. And yeah, I was going to just leave it be and let things happen. But you just can’t fucking call me out on lying and then proceed to lie to me.”  
Claire was still open-mouthed, but she’d composed herself enough to elicit a response. “Moira, that was about your safety!! I’m not in danger with Neil. We keep it hidden from everyone because of professional issues, Jesus Christ.”   
Moira was more than tempted to keep baiting her, but instead backed down. The two of them were headed full-speed toward a big fucking cliff – their point of no return. Fighting over trivialities simply wasn’t worth it, and the younger woman silently chastised herself for starting a conflict in the first place. She cared way too much about Claire to argue over innocuous mistakes.  
Some damage had already been done, though, marked by the hurt that flashed across the redhead’s face. Claire sighed, leaning her head back and closing tired eyes.   
Moira swallowed. She knew she owed Claire an apology, but being the bigger person never came easy to her. She was too proud, too arrogant and fixed in her own ways. Deigning to admit she was in the wrong was so unlike her.  
Why had she lashed out? Keeping a scoreboard wasn’t her thing. That was some shit her mom did, and god, had she hated it. Every time she brought up any friend, Kathy was right there with all the unnecessary facts – who brought the best presents at birthday parties, who reciprocated hosting, and other things irrelevant to the foundation of any friendship.  
Honesty, too, was perhaps the most un-Moira like thing in existence – and yet, she’d flipped on Claire for it. Perhaps the hypocrisy had a lot to do with it, but she’d still blown it out of proportion. Common sense perfectly explained why Claire was hushed about her relationship. She had a job to lose, actual things at stake that could hurt her in the long run. Lying, in some cases, was essential to her survival in the office.  
Moira knew all this in the back of her mind, and yet she’d still gone right for the attack. And as she pondered her actions, the gut-wrenching realization that she’d acted on pure and unadulterated envy began to gnaw at her conscience.  
She was more jealous of Neil than she thought she was. So jealous, in fact, that she’d snapped at Claire with no hesitation.  
“I’m sorry. I –“ the brunette faltered, gaze falling to the ground in shame. “Ignore me.”  
Claire frowned and stepped closer. Moira froze, unsure of what would happen next. Honey eyes quickly jumped up to examine the other woman’s expression. Whatever emotion consumed the redhead was masterfully hidden behind a visage of nonchalance.  
“Moira. Look at me.”  
Moira obeyed without a word, though her lips pouted slightly in protest. Claire’s brows were knotted in concern, but her expression remained firm.  
“Are you okay? You’re more surly than usual. I know that family time can be difficult for you.” No mention of Moira’s impetuosity or anything, only genuine concern for her wellbeing.   
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just exhausted from it all.”   
Claire let out another sigh, pressing her lips together before speaking up once again. “All right. Do what you gotta do – I won’t bother you. And … you’re right. I should have been honest about Neil.”  
The brunette continued to stand still, idling dumbly like a deer in the headlights. She hadn’t been expecting Claire to respond in such a fashion – and as a result, she was at a loss for words and actions. What more could she do? Apologize again?  
“Yeah, yeah,” she mumbled quickly, averting her gaze to the ground and waving one hand dismissively. Moira began to swiftly move past her friend, suddenly determined to get away as fast as she could. Alone time and rest was exactly what she needed.   
“Let’s catch up tomorrow, okay?” Claire called out, watching the younger girl escape into the confines of her tiny room. “Have a good night.”  
She remained standing for a moment, eyes fixed on the door. Her lips curved into a tiny frown as she thought about their strained exchange. Though she’d played it off as innocuous, the whole Neil Debacle had rattled her more than she cared to admit. Her love life was suddenly thrown out onto the table, exposed. Even though Moira was the only one who knew, it still stirred the red-head’s anxiety.  
“God damnit,” Claire muttered to herself, kicking her heel into the ground in sudden frustration. The old veil she’d hidden behind wasn’t gone, but worse – it was replaced by a new, disturbingly fallacious one. Moira very likely believed her to be romantically attracted to Neil. It was the farthest thing from the truth, but how would Claire convince her otherwise?  
She was clearly dedicating too much time to the thought. The worry was spreading itself like a disease, rendering her brain incapable of any outside thinking. The event itself, whilst harrowing, had been a trifle in the grand scheme of things. Still, Claire couldn’t shake the idea that she’d hurt Moira and had damaged an already fragile friendship.   
Soon she was pacing the room, eyebrows knotted as tired eyes bounced from object to object in hope of any feasible distraction. A pile of work glanced back at her from the kitchen table, but only aided in exacerbating her anxiety because all reminded her of was Neil. The couch promised temporary refuge in the form of sleep, but even that didn’t appeal to her. Instead, her body made its instinctive course through the kitchen to the liquor cabinet.  
Though she hated to admit it, Claire Redfield was just as guilty as her wreck of an alcoholic brother when it came to coping mechanisms. It was easier to nurse the pain with a bottle than it was to open up and find some other means of expression. A little bit of booze and she was as calm as a sleeping newborn. Nothing else seemed to do the trick.  
Five minutes later, and she was settled on the armchair with a bottle of Jack Daniels, soft rock playing from the radio. Tiredly, she kicked off her shoes and stretched her limbs. The first swig was long and large, yet she took it without flinching, coughing, or even cringing. The alcohol lit her insides like a warm hug, and she welcomed it with another swig.   
“One more and that should do it,” she thought, settling further into the plush cushion. It would be wise to wait a bit, though – two swigs meant well over a third of the bottle, which was infringing upon potentially dangerous territory. She didn’t need to be that drunk.  
Claire sat quietly for ten painful, ponderous minutes before taking her third and final swig. The bottle looked back at her, half empty (or was it half full? She wasn’t sure), tempting her for another go. Still, she resisted – and instead found her attention drawn to the sound of the opening door in the distance.  
“Shit.”


	13. Forbidden Fruit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A heart-to-heart makes a turn in the wrong direction, leading both women to face yet another schism in their friendship.

It was an inevitable encounter, given Moira’s unbridled curiosity and Claire’s propensity for hard liquor in times of duress. In fact, the older woman was surprised it hadn’t happened sooner. Tonight was apparently the night, as now she found herself staring blankly at Moira. She had no words to offer – better to let the brunette speak her mind first, as that, too, was an unavoidable happening.  
“Claire? Are you fucking—oh my god.” Moira couldn’t decide whether she was amused, distraught, or a combination of both. The red-head was clearly in control of the situation and was in no way making a drunken fool out of herself, but certainly seemed to be in somewhat of a stupor. 

Seeing Claire – someone she placed atop a high pedestal – in such a vulnerable, human state caught the teenager off-guard, and she stood dumbly as her mind struggled to make sense of the situation. Even though she was eighteen and legally living on her own, Moira in no way considered herself to be an adult. Adults were people like Barry, like Jill and Chris and Claire: people who were constantly working and in no way set aside time for things she considered to be essential to a healthy lifestyle. There was no fun, no frivolity, and most certainly no showing of weaknesses. They were robust, seasoned veterans who’d seen it all.   
Claire’s eyes softened upon seeing Moira. There was no anxiety in her gaze, and any prior weariness was quickly disappearing. The confrontation was out of her control – but the situation was not. Calmed by the alcohol but still sober enough to behave coherently, the older woman simply decided to make the best of everything. There were positives, after all. Moira wasn’t seriously angry, and the encounter created an opportunity for both women to fortify their friendship through understanding and trust.  
“Everything’s ok with me, Moira.” Claire laughed, moving so that she was sitting fully upright in the armchair. “Have a seat. Let’s talk. Do you want a drink?” The alcohol was undeniably working in her favor – she was lax and at ease, unfazed by any potential anxieties.  
Moira eyed her in bewilderment, but didn’t speak out – instead, she shrugged and plopped onto the couch. She pursed her lips in thought at the other woman’s offer, wrinkling her nose at the open bottle of jack. “No, if that’s the only shit you have. But if you have anything else, then fuck yeah. I’m down.” Underneath it all, she was still hesitant and confused about Claire’s behavior – but that was something to think about later, after the rest of the evening played out. Things seemed to be taking a turn for the better.  
“Sure do. You probably don’t do wine, do you?” the redhead teased, giving a slight chuckle as she rose to both feet. “Beer? There’s also gin, vodka, and tequila. I have coke in the fridge I can mix it with.”  
“Fuck wine, that shit’s for bougies and moms,” Moira retorted, joining in on the laughter. Any tension that’d been hanging between them had effortlessly drifted away. “I’ll have vodka and coke. That seems to be the most bearable option.”  
“I’m telling you, jack and coke is a million times better,” Claire said, producing the alcohol from the kitchen. “Mixes real well. But it’s your drink. Still set on vodka?”  
“Still set on vodka. Nice try.” Moira smirked, throwing both arms behind her head as she watched the older woman prepare her drink. How the fuck was I angry at her less than an hour ago? She’s fucking perfect. The brunette bit her lip in guilt, silently chastising herself for lashing out. Whatever – the point was that she and Claire were having drinks, and that was more than enough reason to move on from the negative and onto the positive.  
“Here you go,” Claire spoke, returning with a sizeable glass in one hand. She set it down before Moira and proceeded to settle back into the armchair. “So … why don’t you tell me about your night? Anything fun?”  
Moira sighed quietly, for the honest answer was far from it. “Nah. Wasn’t really feeling up to anything, so I ended up crashing at Barry’s.” She paused, swallowing as silence fell upon them. “Everything’s still the goddamned same. Don’t know why I even bothered.”  
Claire remained quiet for another moment before rising to her feet. She gestured to the empty spot beside Moira. “May I?”  
“Yeah, whatever, go for it. I don’t fucking care.”  
The older woman gently seated herself beside the brunette, one hand moving to rest on the other’s thigh. “Moira, that was brave of you. But I want you to know – if you ever need anyone to talk to or ‘come home to,’ so to speak, please find me. Even if I’m preoccupied.” The corners of her lips twitched into a thin smile, and Moira had to refrain from grinning back. It was futile – within seconds, the brunette was practically beaming from ear to ear.  
“Even if you’re in the middle of boning my favorite fuckboy?” The words rolled off her tongue with pronounced confidence, earning a loud sigh from Claire and another laugh from Moira.   
“Yes, Moira. Even if I was fighting the zombie apocalypse single-handedly, you could come bother me and I’d help you out.”  
Moira wrinkled up her nose before punching Claire in the arm. “Claire, that was sappy as fuck. How drunk are you?”  
This earned a snicker from Claire, who almost immediately raised her hands in protest to negate the implications of her laughter. “Barely buzzed, in all honesty. Only had three swigs.”  
“Three swigs equates to like, half a fucking bottle because you’re a fucking Redfield.” Moira made a sudden move and launched herself toward the coffee table in an attempt to seize the bottle of jack and examine its contents. Claire was one step ahead, however, and caught her wrist with ease.  
“What are you trying to do now, huh?” She joked, eyes dancing mischievously.   
“I was trying to prove my point,” the younger woman retorted, hiding a smirk behind a fierce visage. There was a newfound playfulness in the redhead, likely brought about by the alcohol in her system (or so the brunette concluded). “Let me see the bottle.”  
“No way,” Claire said, giving a laugh in response. “Try me.”  
Moira readily took the invitation and attempted to wrestle her friend onto the floor for the bottle. It was a valiant effort, but her tiny frame could not compete against Claire. Claire was built, muscles nicely toned from regular gym visits. Moira, on the other hand, credited her physique to good genes. She was lucky if she made it to the gym once a month. Claire easily fended off her attempts and countered by pinning the younger girl down onto the ground.  
Moira’s heart stopped and her stomach churned. Hell, she wasn’t even drunk yet and the situation was seemingly launching itself in another direction. She was ninety percent sure Claire was ignorant to the undertones of her actions. Pinning someone down out of defense was innocent enough of a gesture, but Moira liked to imagine it in another light.  
She had the power to make a move. Here. Now. Claire was close enough now that Moira could feel her hot breath on the skin of her neck. It sent chills down her spine and heat to her loins.  
“Fuck,” she panted, breaths caught in the back of her throat.  
“Nice try,” Claire teased, ghosting above her triumphantly. Her breasts, freed of any support, threatened to spill out of her cami. She was straddling the younger girl, sweats hiking up shapely thighs.  
“I didn’t stand a fucking chance, Claire. But you know me. I can’t resist a good fight.” She smirked and lifted her body ever-so-slightly, parting her lips in anticipation. Her one free hand moved upward, fingers brushing the older woman’s side.  
“Yeah, I do know you. And –“ Claire paused at the sensation of fingers on flesh, biting down on one lip. “I see you there.”  
Moira hadn’t expected to be called out on her advances -- her cheeks immediately burned with humiliation. The brunette found herself frozen, unsure of how to interpret the woman’s coy response. Did she retreat now, or continue her conquest? In all honesty, both options seemed terrifying so she remained stiffly in place, hand lifting slightly from the tender skin of Claire’s waist.  
This was the moment she’d been waiting for, her chance to show Claire just how capable and captivating she could be. Yet here she was, idling like a flustered schoolgirl. The whole situation angered her. Time was quickly running out. It was now or never.  
“Yeah, you see me, huh?” She began, voice wavering slightly as she began to prepare herself for the next few moments. “I’m not going any-fucking-where.” Slowly, she let her hand trail down the woman’s torso until it rested at the elastic waistband of her sweats. She kept her eyes fixed on Claire’s, maintaining a cool and powerful visage despite the fact that she was low-key freaking out.  
Claire flushed scarlet at the younger girl’s effrontery, unable to do anything but stare, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Aware of the growing warmth in the pit of her stomach, the redhead began to shift uncomfortably.   
The time was finally right – and Moira closed the gap between the two of them, hungrily smashing her mouth against the older woman’s. Victory tasted sweet, just as she’d imagined – and even if the moment were to end in a hurried second, Moira felt more than satisfied. Her goal had been attained.  
Claire’s eyes doubled in size and she instinctively drew back, body aching with unwanted arousal. Oh, how badly she wanted to eat the forbidden fruit. Her resistance was practically futile, especially given the fact that her inhibitions were lowered thanks to the alcohol.   
Moira took note of the older woman’s reaction and immediately put a halt to her ministrations. Shame and humiliation quickly and easily displaced the passion of the moment, and the brunette hurriedly rose to her feet.  
“Moira, wait-“ Claire began, reaching out toward the younger girl. “Moira—“  
“No, shit, I shouldn’t have done that. Sorry. I won’t do it again.” Moira flashed a pained smile, heart and brain racing uncontrollably. She needed time and space, a safe haven where she could think things out without any interruption.  
Shutting the door behind her, Moira took refuge in her room. Shakily, she made her way over to the bed. Her insides were churning, and she hadn’t even taken a sip of the vodka soda Claire had prepared for her. She’d acted on stone-cold sobriety, which was possibly one of the worst elements of the whole damned thing. Moira had no excuse for her actions, and yet she’d still managed to fuck it up.  
She was so conflicted about the whole matter. Her passions ran strong, and whilst she wanted so badly to own them and fulfill her dreams, she knew there were tacit moral boundaries that weren’t to be crossed. And so she thrashed about in her own personal chaos, another poor human soul entangled in the messy webs of life’s many twists and turns.  
And god, was the ambivalence doing its damage. Not only was it tormenting her mind, but it was tearing at the fabric of her friendship with Claire. Constant stressors and unpredictable outbursts of behavior --an overreaction for every action. That’s what their dynamic had been lately, and it was all thanks to Moira.   
Sighing, the younger girl flopped back onto her bed and tiredly reached for her headphones. Her face felt heavy, like her eyes were dams trying to hold back an inundation of tears. She swallowed, setting her iPod to play her signature angst playlist.   
For all she knew, Claire may have been knocking at the door -- but that was irrelevant at this point. Moira’s walls were up. Drown out her problems and bask in the glory of song. A coping mechanism she’d discovered early on, since isolation was something she’d gotten to be very good at.  
As her eyes began to close with the onset of sleep, she envisioned Claire lying beside her. And as the thought played out in her mind like a colorful cinematic, she felt the corners of her mouth twitch as they did only when the tears threatened to fall.


	14. Telltale Tango

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira does a poor job of trying to avoid Claire. Claire takes notice.

Morning dawned, and with it a vivid recollection of the night’s happenings. Moira had known from the second she stirred – that sinking feeling of dread quickly crawled up from the bottom of her stomach and consumed her, followed by the immediate realization that her reality was now a living Hell which she’d need to carefully navigate.  
And by navigate, she really meant circumvent, because any extended encounter with Claire was absolutely out of the question. Moira was in no way robust enough to own up to her actions and confront the older woman, so she figured she’d subtly attempt to avoid her. These subtleties, of course, were carefully calculated detours she’d spent the entire morning mulling over. Sleeping in late, so she didn’t have to see her in the morning. As for evenings, she’d either take her time at work or stay out late. She knew Claire wouldn’t buy the excuses forever, but the excuses themselves would at least buy her a little bit of time to sort out her thoughts.  
Though she was well aware that Claire left the duplex at seven to head to work, Moira stayed put until nine – just to be safe. She cracked open the door and surveyed the area, before deciding that the premises were clear.   
She nervously made her way into the kitchen, unsure of what to expect. As usual, a plate of breakfast awaited her, complete with a personalized note. Today’s entrée was boiled eggs, paired with what she assumed to be premade home-fries, given the fact that no heavenly aroma wafted from the kitchen. Reluctantly, she grasped the note and skimmed over it.  
“Hi, Moira – didn’t have a chance to see you this morning. Guess you must have been tired! Anyway, hope you have a wonderful day. I’ll catch you tonight. –Claire”  
The brunette was immediately swamped with guilt, since the chances of her actually sticking around to see Claire that night were slim to none. Nevertheless, she tenderly folded the note and slipped it in the pockets of her sweats. Thanks to her anxiety, her appetite was practically non-existent. She willed herself to finish one egg and a couple of now-cold fries (meager pickings by Moira standards), before pushing the plate away. One more bite and she’d probably throw up, and she’d rather not have to deal with another pothole in the road.  
Claire’s road wasn’t exactly free of bumps and craters either, though she was exceptionally better at handling a rough ride. Work was demanding enough to keep her mind engaged, but every now and again the hazy flashes of the evening would drift into her thoughts.   
The whole situation shook her understanding of the world considerably, as she now was questioning things she’d assumed were unchanging, or ruminations that had never even ghosted across her mind. Somewhere inside the turbulence lay a newly discovered affection for her younger friend – much different from the affection she’d previously harbored. This one felt dangerously intimate, fragile yet noxious in the sense that it could burn through layers of the steel walls she’d worked so hard to build around herself. It startled her, because the whole event had transpired in the blink of an eye. One kiss, and that had been it. She’d pulled back, acting on intuitive defense mechanisms, which in turn triggered a fearful and remorseful reaction on Moira’s part.  
If anything, all she wanted was to talk things through with the other girl. Sure, the event had rattled her, but there was no use in internalizing negative anxieties. Perhaps a heart to heart would benefit Moira as well – Claire was well aware that her friend was likely agonizing over the whole ordeal.  
Sighing, she continued to diligently attend to her work, putting in just as much time and effort into her research as she normally did. Minutes turned into hours, and the closer she got to the end of the work day, the longer time seemed to stretch.   
Finally it was time to call it a day, and with great relief the red-head gathered her belongings and headed out the door. Because it was one of the warmer days of the month, she’d taken the old Harley into work. Smiling softly, she once again mounted her prized possession and made her way back home, enjoying the scenic route and all it had to offer.   
Upon pulling into the driveway, she noticed that Moira’s car was still there. Claire’s chest filled up with hope, and she quickly bounded up the steps. Just as she was about to reach for the doorknob, Moira came bursting through and nearly crashed into her. The younger girl stared at her in momentary bewilderment before recovering with a tight smile, nervous laughter escaping her throat.  
“Heeeey, Claire. Sorry I didn’t see you this morning, but I’m headed out.” Without missing a beat, she smoothly slid past the older woman, jingling car keys in one hand. “Don’t know when I’ll be back, since I have closing shift tonight. Might go out from there.” She shrugged her shoulders, backing toward the door of her car.  
Claire didn’t even know how to respond, and instead just awkwardly returned the smile. “Oh, okay,” she blurted, unsure of what else to say. It was obvious that Moira was avoiding her, but the redhead knew that calling her out would only create more disharmony. “Well, whether or not I see you, I hope you have a good night!”  
“Yeah, you too! Oh yeah – I’m going on a day trip with the girls tomorrow, so I’ll be out again. Plenty of downtime! Neil won’t have to feel threatened.” This last part was added as a joke, but it only seemed to contribute to the wealth of tension they’d already amassed.   
“No, but really. Enjoy yourself.” Moira added quickly, giving a final wave before hopping into her vehicle. Claire frowned, watching her drive off.  
Perhaps it would be wise to give her some more time – after all, Moira was very easily provoked and Claire had no intention of upsetting her. Sighing, the older woman took a seat on the couch and rubbed her temples.   
All she could hope was that Moira would eventually come around sooner or later.


	15. No Straight Answer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira and Claire reconcile, and the two slowly make their way into new territory by opening up to one another.

It had been nearly a week of this ill-fitting limbo – or, as Claire saw it, Moira’s poor attempt at a façade of normalcy. The younger girl continued to conveniently dance around any potential encounter in an exaggerated apologetic manner. It was the same old story day after day, with each excuse just another spin on the old “I’m sorry, I already made plans!”   
They hadn’t had an actual conversation since that one night, instead only exchanging brief pleasantries on the rare occasion that they crossed paths. The whole superficiality of it all didn’t sit well with Claire. She and Moira were too close to be treating each other like distant acquaintances.   
If they continued down this toxic trajectory, then their friendship would certainly rot away, and that was the last thing the older woman wanted. She knew Moira wanted to fix things, too, but Moira was Moira --stubborn, strong-willed, and particularly unskilled at communicating. The younger girl hated to show any signs of weakness or vulnerability. The kiss had surely rattled her with guilt, shame, and humiliation.  
Obstinate as she was, Moira was not naïve. She was well aware of Claire’s intentions. Though the brunette knew that her friend only wanted to ameliorate things, she still resisted out of fear and anxiety. Risking any confrontation meant owning up to (and mentally reliving) her goddamned royal blunder. She’d been fighting so hard to distract herself, to forget it ever happened and instead move on.  
But Claire was right, and Moira knew it. They needed to work things out. Moira couldn’t run from her issues forever – the baggage would still be chained. She’d only be leaving behind her friendship, the one thing she sought to salvage by abandoning her problems. Moira was trapped in a vicious cycle, and she was too anxious to break it.   
The only thing she could do was will herself to spend the night at home and wait for Claire, which was exactly what she ended up doing. And as she heard the soft rumble of Claire’s SUV pulling into the driveway, her chest tightened and her stomach lurched. The dinner she’d eagerly scarfed down an hour prior threatened to spill from her mouth, causing Moira to groan. She had to fight through it, though, or else things would never improve.  
Thud, thud. She wasn’t sure if Claire’s footsteps or her heartbeats were louder. Sighing, Moira knotted her fingers together and closed her eyes, agonizing as time began to stretch itself. The notion granted Moira just enough time to let her brain lapse into near delirium, thanks to her obsessive ruminations and worries.  
Click. Her eyes flashed open just in time to see the redhead stroll through the door. Claire was visibly surprised, one hand lingering on the doorknob and the other frozen in mid-air as she surveyed the scene.  
“Moira!” She exclaimed, eyes lighting up. “God, I’m so glad you’re here. Listen, I—“  
“I know,” Moira interjected, lacing her fingers tighter as she reluctantly forced herself to speak, “We need to talk.”  
Once again, bewilderment flashed across the older woman’s face, followed by a quick glimpse of mirth before she regained her composure. “Thank you, Moira. I know it’s hard for you to face this, but I assure you—“ she paused, reaching out to take the younger girl’s hand, “—that things will only get better from here on in. And I promise you, I’m not mad, if that’s what you’re worried about.”  
“I’m not worried about that,” Moira lied, averting her gaze to the ground. Claire’s hand was soft and warm against hers, and whilst she wanted to cling to it, she drew back. “I just – fuck, Claire. I’m so fucking mad at myself. I fucking ruined our friendship. I fucked up. I don’t know why I went for the kiss.” The words began to spill out in a messy, vaguely emotional jumble. She was rambling. The floodgates had opened, and now she couldn’t stop. Claire wrapped one arm around her and soothingly stroked her back. “Shh,” she spoke softly, placating the younger girl.  
“Moira, you didn’t ruin anything. I don’t think any differently of you.” Claire pulled her ever-so-closer, so that the two of them were pressed side by side. “You’re a good girl with a big heart. Impulses can be hard. We all make mistakes, right?” Her words elicited no response, and so she brought two fingers to Moira’s chin, forcing the girl to lift her gaze. “You with me, Moira?”  
“Yeah,” Moira squeaked, feeling her body go nearly limp at the older woman’s touch. The proximity was driving her insane – mostly because she knew Claire was doing this as a platonic gesture, but still it felt like something so much more. “I guess.”  
“Look, I’ve done things I’ve regretted, believe me. A lot of things.” Claire paused, falling silent as her mind drifted back to forlorn memories of Rockfort and Harvardville, and all the lives she’d failed to protect. “The past is a – oh, how would you phrase it?—stubborn motherfucker.” At this, Moira laughed, feeling a tear trickle down her cheek.   
“It really is, Moira, and I fight it every day. But we have to move on. Even I’m still learning that.” Claire sighed, and Moira once again found herself at a loss for words. She could clearly see the older woman’s pain – it was etched in faint wrinkles and knotted brows, in her foggy blue eyes and perpetual demeanor of nonchalance. Claire worked so hard for her happiness, but at the end of the day could only muster as much as a flimsy façade.  
And as the two sat quietly for a few moments, Moira realized that the importance of their chat had far more weight to it. Fuck, the kiss had been a trifle in the grand scheme of things – Claire was concerned for her conscience, for her life philosophy. Claire was looking out for her and trying to make sure that she didn’t fall down the same damned path.  
Claire didn’t want her to carry the chains of the past.   
The revelation shook her, but it stirred some sentiment deep within. Moira suddenly jumped to life, arms flying outward as she pulled the older woman into a suffocating embrace. Claire was silent, but returned the gesture, letting the younger girl hold her close.  
“Thanks, Claire,” Moira whispered.   
“No, thank you for hearing me out.” Claire pulled back so she could once again look Moira in the eye. She was visibly relieved, tension gone from both face and body. “That was big. I’m proud of you.”  
Moira swallowed, and pondered whether or not she should just admit everything to Claire. That she was hopelessly and completely enamored of her and had acted on feelings. It was a burden she’d been hiding for so long, and after this mutual catharsis she was so tempted to just let that last load out into the open.  
“And hey, Moira?”  
The brunette froze, heart skipping a beat. “Yeah, Claire?”  
“A kiss doesn’t mean anything. It’s a kiss! Nothing big. It’s not like you went out and betrayed me. We’re still best friends.”  
Even though the statement was meant to bring her relief, Moira felt herself sinking deeper into despair. At once, she abandoned her idea of confessing – clearly, it wasn’t worth it if Claire had pretty much vocalized that the incident was meaningless.  
“Yeah …” was all she could respond, feeling her throat tighten. “Yeah.” She remained quiet for a few seconds, before lifting her eyes to meet Claire’s again. “Hey, Claire …”  
“Mm?” Claire responded, tilting her head. The two were still side by side, in what had become somewhat of an embrace. Moira felt like a small child compared the older woman – her presence was undeniably soothing.  
“You and Neil …” she began, nearly cringing as she did so. Her voice trailed off in hesitation and reluctance, because she honestly wasn’t sure how the older woman was going to respond. She expected something along the lines of dismissive irritation, since the topic was a touchy one.  
“Yes?” Claire replied, not annoyed in the slightest. In fact, she seemed unusually pleasant, and her tone invited Moira to continue.   
“Are you guys … together? Like, do you … like him?”  
Claire’s lips twitched into a coy little smile, and she chuckled quietly. “Good god, Moira. I figure you could’ve answered that one yourself, since you’re clearly an expert spy.”  
Moira flushed red for a moment, but quickly recovered. “Oh, shut the fuck up, Queen-of-the-work-assignments. Give me a straight answer!”  
Claire nearly snorted, bringing one hand to her mouth to suppress a loud laugh. “Can’t do that, I’m afraid – I don’t fit the criteria.”  
Moira stared at her blankly for a moment, before her eyes widened and nearly bulged out of her head in surprise. “Holy shit. What the fuck? You’re a dyke?” she blurted, snickering in disbelief. “Wait, but that doesn’t make sense. You were totally fucking him. I’m confused!”  
Claire grinned, shaking her head. “God, Moira, the way you phrase things sometimes. No, I’m not exclusively gay, but I’d definitely say I swing both ways.”  
Moira sat back, still wide-eyed and practically teeming with excitement. This was certainly better news than she ever could have hoped for! “Hot damn. I want fucking stories, Claire.” A pause, and she suddenly remembered her question. “And an answer about Neil.”  
“Yeah, I definitely have stories,” Claire replied, leaning back and stretching out her legs. “As for Neil, the plain and simple answer is no, I don’t love him. And no, we’re not together, though we fool around a lot because we both benefit from it.”  
“Benefit? From him? Come on, Claire, you could do so much better. Why don’t you find someone you actually want to be with?” Oops. Moira had finally traversed into unfriendly territory – Claire’s expression became alarmed, and she knotted her eyebrows crossly.  
They’d gotten so comfortable with their playful banter that Moira had nearly forgotten the verity of the older woman’s relationship qualms.   
Still, Claire responded softly and kindly, though her voice was noticeably quieter. “Not really looking for a relationship.”  
Moira didn’t know what had overcome her, but she continued to press on, albeit gently. “That’s beside the point. I’m trying to say, why don’t you at least find someone who will take the fuck care of you? Or maybe try to pursue something with someone you like?” Her voice wavered toward the end, as she thought about just how fucking badly she pined to take her own advice. “There HAS to be someone. Please, fucking talk to me. You always invite me to open up, but you never do. We’re best friends. I’m here for you.”  
Claire raised her gaze to meet the other girl’s once more, and there was a distant sadness in her eyes. She bit down on one lip, pressing her mouth into a thin, maudlin smile. “You’re very sweet, Moira.”   
“Claire, fucking talk to me,” Moira spoke, voice raising ever so slightly.  
Claire continued to smile, though her eyes seemed to be misting at this point. She did have a lot to say – like how she was terrified of developing feelings and tried to avoid it at all costs, but found herself being sucked into an unstoppable vortex. That vortex, namely, being Moira.  
She’d brushed off the kiss because she’d worried that she’d crossed a boundary that Moira hadn’t wanted her to. She’d labeled it as nothing, but by the same token could not stop thinking about that moment. Moira had felt so sweet and soothing – everything she wanted and didn’t want at the same time. Claire Redfield had almost been positive that she’d mastered the art of avoiding relationships, but Moira had shaken her foundation badly.  
The redhead found herself quickly falling for her younger friend, a pathway she absolutely did not want to pursue because it lay ripe with so many fears and hazards. She didn’t want to ruin their bond, nor did she want to risk putting her in any more danger. When it came to intimacy, she had a bad track record – everyone she’d ever been exceptionally close to ended up horribly injured, whether it was emotionally, physically, or both.  
“I’m fine, really. If I ever need to talk, I’ll go to you without question.” Claire offered another tight smile and a poorly veiled excuse, much to Moira’s chagrin.  
The younger girl sighed, knowing that the walls Claire had built up around herself were practically impervious. Pressing any further now would be futile. “Well, okay. But can we talk girls?”  
“Fire away,” Claire invited, relieved at the change of topic.   
Moira grinned, because that in itself was a small victory. Now, to launch her next string of attacks.  
“What’s your ideal type?”


	16. Types

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Moira get personal.

“Digging right in, are we?”   
“Damn right. This is some shit I want to hear. Claire Redfield and women. But wait, tell me – have you been with many girls?”  
Claire chuckled, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder. “Well, I’ve been with a fair amount. But the male to female ratio isn’t even. I’ve slept with more guys.”  
“Fair enough,” Moira responded, positioning herself so that her chin was propped on both palms. “Type?”  
“Getting there! God.” Claire let out another laugh, eyes scanning over the younger girl. The two of them were still fairly close, seated side-by-side on the tiny loveseat. “I’m not so sure I have a specific type. I, god. I’m drawn to people emotionally. Always have been.” She glanced back over to see Moira’s reaction. “Sorry if that wasn’t the response you were hoping for.”  
Moira groaned, giving the woman an exaggerated eyeroll. “That’s so fucking cliché. Where the fuck is your fire? You are Claire Redfield, after all.”  
“I swear, Moira, if you keep saying that,” Claire started, shaking her head. “The way you make me sound – like I’m some sort of badass femme fatale – it’s ridiculous! I’m just me. A woman.” She folded her arms across her chest sternly, but couldn’t mask the smirk on her face. “How many times do I have to remind you of that?”  
“Well, let’s look at the fucking facts. Of all the fucking adults I know, you’re different. You have energy, youth. And you’re real. And you get me. You don’t talk to me like I’m twelve, like fucking Jill.” Moira edged closer, also smirking. “Admit it.”  
“Okay, so yeah, I can be fun,” Claire agreed, shrugging her shoulders. “But I’m honestly just a human being. Yeah, before you even comment – I know, another cliché.” A sad sigh escaped her, and she brought one hand to her temple. “It’s just … people make me out to be something more, because of Raccoon and all. And it’s flattering, but it gets exhausting sometimes.”  
Moira frowned, but immediately straightened up. “Okay, this is getting fucking dark again. Let’s focus on the steamy stuff. Girls. Come on.” She moved one hand to pat Claire’s thigh.  
“You’re right,” Claire agreed with a nod, “Let’s get back on track.” Her heart skipped a beat as the younger girl’s palm brushed against her leg. Her toes curled reflexively, perhaps as a means to channel the feelings that were stirring in the pit of her stomach. “Girls. Right. Well … what else do you want to know?”   
Moira could practically feel Claire tensing under her touch, and the realization brewed a sense of sweet satisfaction. The thrill of it sent a shiver down her spine, and she reveled in her power for a moment before considering her next move.   
Oddly enough, the brunette held no qualms – there wasn’t the slightest sliver of doubt nor discomfort on her end. Claire was sitting rigid like a statue, but gave off no signs of apprehension. Rather, the older woman was trying to suppress whatever feeling had come over her.  
Moira had blundered once already, sloppily attempting to secure her dreams with a kiss that neither one had been prepared for. And ever since that night, the two of them had awkwardly shuffled around each other.   
Honey eyes fell back to gaze upon her friend. Claire was smiling, cheeks pink. As Moira studied over the older woman, it dawned on her that she was indeed not alone in her feelings. Any prior doubt about their encounter left her mind, as she realized that their moment was far more than “just a kiss” to the redhead.  
The prize was right before her eyes.  
“Claire,” Moira breathed, voice barely a whisper. The older woman stirred slightly, blue eyes wide as she watched the brunette.  
“M-moira?” Claire stammered, frozen in place.  
“Am I your type?”   
Moira didn’t even give her time to answer – within moments, she was on top of the older woman, lips pressed against hers. Desire burned hot and deep in the core of her being, her hunger nearly insatiable. One hand firmly placed itself atop Claire’s shoulder and pinned her back against the couch, allowing Moira to position herself accordingly.  
Claire surrendered almost immediately, hips bucking forward in response to Moira’s sudden assertion of dominance. A choked gasp escaped her and she fought to stifle the subsequent moan, but to no avail. Her legs quivered, knees firmly pressing themselves against the younger girl.   
Moira pulled back from the kiss, struggling to keep her arousal at bay. Suppressing a smirk, she took a moment to feast upon the sight before her. Claire’s entire body was flushed. Though she maintained a calm enough visage, her eyes gazed longingly up at her, clouded with telltale desire.   
“I want an answer, you know,” Moira teased, one hand confidently making its way toward her bosom. Somehow, Claire managed to make business casual sexy. Her tight white blouse did wonders for her bust. Slowly, Moira began to toy with the top button. She felt the air escape Claire’s lungs as she did so.  
“Relax,” Moira breathed, other hand trailing down to grip her thigh. Unfortunately, Claire was wearing jeans. Snug as they were, they weren’t exactly ideal when it came to easy access. Deciding to draw it out, Moira simply let her hand rest in place, occasionally stroking a finger or two inward in hopes of stirring some sort of reaction from the woman.  
Claire was at a loss for words – or movement, really. All she could do was stare and succumb to the pleasure. It was creeping through her every limb, tantalizing and tempting. Her mind was still resisting, and despite the physiological euphoria she continued to mentally spar against fears, doubts, and other impasses that attempted to halt her arousal.  
Moira continued her conquest, fingers eagerly undoing each button. She was rewarded with the sight of a delightfully form-fitting black bra that hugged Claire’s curves in all the right places. Seconds later, the brunette’s fingers unhooked the bra, yanking it off with little hesitation.  
Claire Redfield, lying helpless and half nude, was at Moira’s complete mercy. Plump breasts rose and fell with each heavy breath she took. Her nipples were already hard from what little foreplay they’d engaged in, causing the brunette to beam in sheer delight. It was something out of her wildest fantasies, something she’d never thought she’d see in a million goddamned years.  
“Damn,” Moira mused, feasting her eyes. Very slowly, she began to remove her own shirt, staring down the older woman with a satisfied smirk all the while. It felt so damn good to take the situation by the horns and harness control. Claire was flustered and red-faced and it was all thanks to her.  
A flimsy lace bralette was cast aside and Moira joined the older woman in baring her chest, though her own breasts were considerably smaller. Not wanting to spend any more time apart, she once again leaned down to close the gap between them.   
Moira moaned into Claire, ecstatic at the realization that the redhead was kissing her back. As much as she wanted to indulge herself in a slow and steamy crescendo, the need to sate her libido was simply too overpowering. Foreplay would have to be saved for another time. Lips still pressed against Claire’s, Moira dragged her hands upwards to fondle her lover’s breasts, causing the older woman to shudder beneath her.  
She gave a firm squeeze and then let go, allowing her fingers to trail down the soft skin of Claire’s abdomen. Her heart was racing and she was throbbing, panties drenched from the excitement of it all. Her fingers slowed to a stop upon reaching the waistline of Claire’s jeans.   
“Moira,” Claire panted, bringing her arms to rest themselves upon the girl’s waist. Moira shivered at her touch, carnal desire growing by the second.  
Hungrily, she tore at the button of her pants, proceeding to dig her nails into Claire’s thighs as she yanked the fabric down to her ankles. A lacy black thong greeted her – the same damned one she’d stumbled upon in her little treasure hunt a few weeks back.  
Claire was beginning to do her part, awkwardly grasping Moira’s mini skirt before tugging it down with one solid motion. She had given in. Fucking success, and it only served to drive Moira that much closer to the edge.   
She pressed her fingers against the soaking fabric of Claire’s thong, causing the older woman to whimper and squirm. Grinning, Moira teasingly rubbed the area before moving to discard the garment altogether. Claire’s womanhood greeted her, pink and shaven and glistening with arousal.  
“Look at how fucking wet you are,” Moira observed, thrusting two fingers into her opening. Claire yelped, arching her back in response to the unexpected rush of pleasure. “Goddamn.”  
Moira continued her ministrations, pumping in and out of the redhead with increasing speed and pressure until she had four fingers violently thrusting into her entrance. Claire was practically thrashing beneath her, moving her hands to the couch in an attempt to clench something in her balled fists. When that failed, she grabbed Moira’s rear.  
“Fuck,” Moira grunted, moving her body forward to Claire’s knee in an attempt to get off herself. She bucked her hips, shuddering at the building intensity in her core. Each brush of Claire’s knee sent crippling waves of pleasure through her body, and each one threatened to make her climax.  
Moira leaned forward and kissed Claire, adjusting her hand so that her palm made contact against the woman’s clit as she fingered her. Claire let out a sharp cry, nails digging into the Moira’s back. Moira grunted, forcefully grinding herself against Claire’s knee at a wild pace. The pressure and impact was beginning to spread across her womanhood in dull pangs – the beginning of what was to be a very intense orgasm.   
A guttural outburst from the other woman caught Moira momentarily off guard, and she felt Claire’s walls clench and tighten around her hand. The redhead surrendered to her pleasure, toes curling and back fully arching as climax swamped her body. Watching Claire get off was just the final push Moira needed, and she joined her in seconds as the dull throbs of pleasure heightened to flaming euphoria.   
With a final cry, Moira collapsed beside her lover. Claire turned toward her with a weak smile, auburn hair falling out of her usually perfect ponytail. Both of them seemed to be immersed in total tranquility -- no anxieties could make it past the robust wall of peace that currently protected their minds.  
“Moira,” Claire whispered, nearly causing the brunette to jump in surprise.  
“Mm?” she responded, resisting the urge to reach out and brush some hair from the woman’s eyes.  
Claire inched closer, closing up any free space between the two of them. “Remember when you asked me if you were my type?”  
Moira froze, feeling her chest tighten. “Yeah, haha. And you never answer--”  
Claire cut her off with a chaste kiss, bringing a hand to her face. “You are. You most certainly are.”


	17. Bragging Rights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unable to stop thinking about Claire, Moira takes to boasting. Getting together with her closest friends, she tells all - while holding back some intimate feelings.

“You did NOT fuck Claire Redfield. No fucking way in Hell.”

Moira smirked victoriously in response, reclining on the arm chair as she glanced over at her friends. Rachel, who was generally outspoken, sat on the edge of her seat. Peyton, the quietest of the trio, was open-mouthed.

“Moira, seriously, stop fucking with us. I know you have a way with women, but ... Claire? I didn’t even know she was gay!” Peyton shook her head, blonde tresses swaying back and forth. 

Rachel snorted, leaning over to give her friend a shove. “Peyton, are you blind? Claire’s as gay as they come. That woman has ‘dyke’ written all over. Hell, she rides motorcycles! That’s more than enough evid-”

The three of them were spending the night at Rachel’s. It had been a day filled with shopping, concerts, and smoking weed. Now, they were unwinding over a bottle of wine that Peyton had stolen from her parents.

“You two are ridiculous,” Moira chimed in, dismissing both girls with a wave of her hand. She rose to her feet. 

“We’re ridiculous? Moira, for fuck’s sake.” Rachel followed her lead, laughing as she looked Moira in the eye. “I, for one, am not claiming to have fucked Claire Redfield. God. Peyton, pass me the wine.” She held out her empty glass, clinking her long fingernails against it. Peyton nodded and handed her the bottle.

“Oh, I fucked her, Rachel,” Moira began, eyes twinkling deviously as the words rolled off her tongue. A wave of arousal washed over her, and she licked her lips. “I kissed her and she surrendered. I was the one leading everything.” She paused, reveling in the sweet silence of the room. 

Rachel held her gaze, lips curving downward. Moments later, she broke into a wide and lecherous grin, laughter bellowing from her chest. “Moira, shit! Your eyes don’t lie. I can’t fucking believe you.”

“No, she’s lying, oh my god,” Peyton breathed, bringing a hand to her mouth. “Moira, you’re totally lying, right?”

Moira giggled, twirling around so her mini-skirt flapped up. “Hell no. No lies. Just the goddamned truth. Believe me, I was in shock myself for a good day or so after it all happened. Like, fuck. I had my suspicions about her, but I never fathomed that this would, you know, occur. Especially like ... now. Of all times.”

“Jesus, Moira,” Peyton spoke, suppressing a nervous giggle. “How old is she?”

“She’s in her fucking thirties, isn’t she?” Rachel grabbed Moira’s arm, still beaming. “I cannot believe this. Or you. OR HER. She’s a cougar!” She paused to take a long swig of her wine, nearly downing the contents of her glass.

“Maybe I should’ve brought more than one bottle,” Peyton mused, glancing over at Rachel. “Save some for the rest of us! I mean, at least me. I definitely need a drink.”

“Yeah, well, we didn’t plan on Moira dropping a truthbomb like this, did we now?”

 

“Rachel, you fail to recognize the fact that I’m fucking irresistible.” Moira slapped one hand over her chest, snickering. “She didn’t start shit. I did. I can’t believe I had the balls to do that, because you know why?”

 

Peyton bit her lip, exchanging a glance with Rachel before looking back at Moira. “ ... Why?”

Moira’s cheeks flushed, but she pressed on. “Well, because, I already sort of tried before. Like - not fucking, really, but I tried to kiss her once before when she was tipsy and she freaked out.”

“Damn, woman. You never told us this!” Rachel flopped back onto the couch, stretching her arms behind her head. “Not your brightest moment, huh?” 

“Oh, shut the fuck up. At least I made up for it,” Moira retorted, face hot. She flashed another grin at her friends, but felt her stomach churn. Sure, she was proud of her accomplishment. Afterall, it was a steamy and incredibly unexpected encounter, and she wanted to boast that to the world - but there was more to it than that.

Much like a child fawns over a superhero or princess, Moira found herself eager and excited at the prospect of harboring some sort of intimate relationship with Claire. That was the mushy-gushy fucking part, the part she kept from her friends for several reasons, the most prominent being that she was afraid of their judgement. Moira Burton wanted them to think she was cool and fearless, not soft and romantic. 

It had been a whole week since the goddamned affair, and yet she still couldn’t get it off her mind. Things with Claire had carried on normally, for the most part - neither one of them felt awkward about it, but at the same time, nothing more had happened. Occasionally she’d find Claire gazing at her, but nothing ever came of it. 

Moira had expected such a reaction, more or less. It had been a one night tryst. Claire was busy with work during the week, and Moira herself had things to attend to. She knew very well that she could be the one to make another move and push things forward, but she found herself hesitating. Such a move seemed almost too desperate -- Moira wanted Claire to come to her, but Claire was Claire, and she didn’t seem to be budging. And of course, to top it all off, there was Neil. 

Neil had come by twice in the past week, and it pissed Moira off. She knew that seducing Claire wouldn’t change anything regarding Neil, but she went for it anyway, hoping that maybe by some freak chance Claire would get over him. Not so. She wasn’t sure if they had slept together again or not, because the second Moira saw him, she bolted out the door. Yeah, it wasn’t the most mature way to deal with things ... but it was her way of coping. Moira figured it was better safe than sorry, anyway -- she didn’t trust herself to be civil when Neil was in close proximity.

Her thoughts bounced back to Claire. Tomorrow was the weekend, which meant that Claire would be home. Moira was both nervous and excited, each one only adding to the anxiety eating at her stomach. No matter how hard she tried to disregard the future and instead focus on the present, she failed. She’d been fighting the whole day to fixate on her friends, and had only really been mildly successful. The pot had arguably made things worse, but that had worn off hours ago. Now, she was just waging a war against her own mind.

“Earth to Moira. You with us?” Rachel snorted, clapping her hands together. “There’s no more wine, by the way. Peyton claimed it.”

“Yeah, I’m here,” Moira said, rolling her eyes. “And cool, whatever. I don’t care.”

“Man, you’re really stuck on her,” Rachel teased, tapping her foot. “I mean, we’ve always known you had the hots for her. But damn. Look at yourself.”

 

“Oh, shut the fuck up. You’re totally guilty of this shit.” Moira groaned, folding her arms across her chest.

“Yes, but I was dating Greg. You and Claire aren’t dating.” 

Peyton almost choked on her wine, once again reflexively bringing her hand to her mouth. Moira flushed scarlet.

“Yeah, well, whatever. It was a sexy hook-up, and I like to think about it. So fuck off.”

Rachel laughed, resting one hand on Moira’s shoulder. “Relax, Moira. It’s all good. We’re just pulling your leg. Anyway, let’s pop in a fucking movie or some shit.”

“As long as it’s not a chick flick, go for it.” Moira shot her friend a glance. “I refuse to put up with any more of that shit.”

“Okay, fine. Peyton, grab Sucker Punch. That’s a good one.”

\--


	18. Ladies' Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris abandons ship angrily after hearing about Claire's escapades.

Claire hadn’t originally intended to tell her brother about the Moira Incident.

The gathering was innocent enough. Chris had called her up and invited her over for dinner. She accepted, naturally, and arrived at the scene with a side of instant mashed potatoes. It was no secret that she couldn’t cook, so no one really objected - and besides, the presentation was nice. Claire had chosen an aesthetically pleasing blue glass bowl to spruce up her dish, complete with a sprinkling of shaved herbs on top. It was a trick she’d learned long ago, a little something to make it look like she’d put in more effort than she actually had.

Then, of course, Chris brought out the booze. Jill had politely declined, choosing to stick with a simple glass of water. Her self-control was indicative of a larger issue - the woman had barely even filled her plate with food. There was shit beneath the surface for sure, but she always pushed it aside in favor of everyone else’s problems. That’s just the way Jill was.

Claire, on the other hand, boldly proclaimed she’d only have wine, but five minutes later and she’d thrown that decision out the window. Chris had brought out the whiskey, and there was no way she could ignore an open bottle of Jack Daniels. 

Chris greeted her exasperated gaze with a smug look of his own, placing the handle down in front of her. “Your favorite, Claire.”

“Yeah, but -” Claire hesitated, glancing around before she snatched the bottle, taking a long swig. “Fuck this and you,” she muttered under her breath, coughing as she set the handle down and wiped her mouth with one arm. Chris just continued to grin, earning a sigh from Jill and another cough from Claire.

Two drinks later and Claire had thrown her blazer to the ground and her filter out the window. Words began to flow messily from her mouth, detailing the happenings of last week’s affair. Jill watched quietly from her chair, sipping her water pensively. Chris nearly spit out the last of his gin and tonic (comprised of three parts gin and one part tonic, of course), and practically threw his glass across the counter. Jill reached out and stopped it, catching it moments before it launched into the air.

“You fucking WHAT?!”

“I said, I slept with Moira last wee-- Fuck.” Claire stopped in her tracks. The effects of the alcohol seemed to disappear and she realized, with a sinking pit in her stomach, just what exactly it was that she had so boldly proclaimed. This was not a truth she’d intended to share with anyone, especially her brother and his dangerously insightful not-girlfriend, Jill.

Chris continued to leer at her angrily, eyes bulging and hands shaking. Jill looked plenty shocked herself, but seemed to preoccupied with keeping Chris at bay to respond directly to Claire, whose blushing countenance now matched her hair. 

“Claire,” Jill began softly, but Claire raised both her hands in flustered protest.

“Jill, please, leave it be. It was a slip, and yes, it happened, but can we please leave it at that? Please?!”

Chris began to slowly inhale and exhale, and Jill’s face softened, though still unreadable. She was perhaps the master of projecting a perfect poker face. She always had been - it was part of why she excelled at the RPD. She was quiet and intuitive, caring but dangerously good at reading people and exploring their motives. Claire felt perhaps more naked and vulnerable than she had in front of Moira, who had quite literally bared and fucked her. 

“Claire, are you insane? That’s Barry’s teenage daughter we’re talking about!” Chris blurted, nearly rising from his chair. “How do you expect me to just leave this crucial piece of information alone after you stupidly told us?”

“She’s eighteen, Chris, for fuck’s sake!” Claire responded, face still hot with embarrassment. She considered reaching over and finishing off the bottle of Jack, but kept herself locked in place. More alcohol would only further fuck up this already messy situation. Better to grin and bear it than drink herself into a Chris-like stupor. 

“Chris, lay off her.” Jill’s voice was quiet yet firm, and just commanding enough to silence the bulky man who was brooding beside her. Claire watched in half-amazement as Chris reluctantly pushed in his seat and exited the room. 

“Now,” Jill continued, folding her hands across the table, “we can talk about this together. Just us girls.”

“Jill, please, don’t bullshit me like that,” Claire groaned, pacing around the room restlessly. “There’s not much more to say and I really don’t feel like discussing this.”

“That’s all well and fine, Claire.” Jill continued to carefully watch her with those soft, inviting grey eyes of hers. “Did Moira initiate it, or did you?”

Claire flushed, one hand immediately fluttering up to fiddle with her bangs. “Jesus, Jill. Moira did. Is that enough? Can I be done now?” 

Jill gave a quick raise of her eyebrows before nodding. “I figured as much. You’re a loose cannon, but not to that degree.”

“Jill, PLEASE.” Claire stopped and looked straight at her. “Chris is off to sulk for the rest of the night, so what does this mean for our dinner?”

“You know what it means,” Jill answered, getting up to grab a couple of plates. She handed one to Claire, and put the other one down at her spot at the table. “Ladies' night.”


End file.
